IHni 


APPLETONS'  POPULAR  LIBRARY 

OF  THE  BEST  AUTHORS. 


JEAMES'S  DIARY— A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE- 
REBECCA  AND  ROWENA. 


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JEAMES'S  DIARY, 


REBECCA  AND  ROWENA. 


BY 


W.  M.  THACKEKAY, 

AUTHOR  OK  "VANITY  FAIR,"  "MR.  BROWN'S  LETTERS  TO  A  YOUXG 
MAX  ABOUT  TOWN,"  ETC. 


NEW-YORK : 

D.  APPLETON  &  COMPANY,  200  BROADWAY. 
1853. 


CONTENTS. 

JEAMES'S  DIARY,      .  ....         7 

A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE,  .  .  .  .91 

REBECCA  AND  ROWENA,      .  .  .  .195 


2224S55 


JEAMES'S    DIAKY, 


J  E  A  M  E  S'S     DIARY. 

A  TALE  OF  1846. 


A   LUCKY    SPECULATOR. 

"  CONSIDEKABLE  sensation  has  been  excited  in  the  upper  and  lower 
circles  In  the  "West  End,  by  a  startling  piece  of  good  fortune  which  has 
befallen  JAMES  PLUSH,  Esq.,  lately  footman  In  a  respected  family  in 
Berkeley  Square. 

"  One  day  last  week,  MR.  JAMES  waited  upon  his  master,  who  is  a 
banker  in  the  City  ;  and  after  a  little  blushing  and  hesitation,  said  he  had 
saved  a  little  money  in  the  service,  was  anxious  to  retire,  and  to  invest  his 
savings  to  advantage. 

"  His  master  (we  believe  we  may  mention,  without  offending  delicacy, 
the  well-known  name  of  SIR  GEORGE  FLIMSY,  of  the  house  of  FLIMSY, 
DIDDLER  «fc  FLASH)  smilingly  asked  MR.  JAMES  what  was  the  amount 
of  his  savings :  wondering  considerably  how,  out  of  an  income  of  thirty 
guineas— the  main  part  of  which  he  spent  in  bouquets,  silk  stockings,  and 
perfumery — MR.  PLUSH  could  have  managed  to  lay  by  anything. 

"  MB.  PLUSH,  with  some  hesitation,  said  he  had  been  specitlating  in 
railroad*,  and  stated  his  winnings  to  have  been  thirty  thousand  pounds. 
He  had  commenced  his  speculations  with  twenty,  borrowed  from  a  fellow- 
servant  He  had  dated  his  letters  from  the  house  in  Berkeley  Square,  and 
humbly  begged  pardon  of  his  master  for  not  having  instructed  the  Railway 
Secretaries  who  answered  his  applications  to  apply  at  the  area-bell. 

"SiR  GEORGE,  who  was  at  breakfast,  instantly  rose,  and  shook  MR.  P. 
by  the  hand;  LADY  FLIMSY  begged  him  to  be  seated,  and  partake  of  the 
breakfast  which  he  had  laid  on  the  table ;  and  has  subsequently  invited 
him  to  her  grand  dejeuner  at  Richmond,  where  it  was  observed  that  Miss 
EMILY  FLIMSY,  her  beautiful  and  accomplished  seventh  daughter,  paid  the 
lucky  gentleman  marked  attention. 
1 


1  0  JEAMES's    DIARY. 


"  "We  hear  it  stated  that  ME.  P.  Is  of  a  very  ancient  family  (Huoo  DZ  LA 
PLTJCHE  came  over  with  the  Conqueror) ;  and  the  new  Brougham  which 
he  has  started,  bears  the  ancient  coat  of  his  race. 

"  He  has  taken  apartments  in  the  Albany,  and  is  a  director  of  thirty- 
three  railroads.  He  purposes  to  stand  for  Parliament  at  the  next  general 
election,  on  decidedly  conservative  principles,  which  have  always  been  the 
politics  of  his  family. 

"  Report  says,  that  even  in  his  humblo  capacity  MBS  EMILY  FLIMSY  had 
remarked  his  high  demeanour.  "Well, '  none  but  the  brave,'  say  we, '  deserve 
the  fair.1  "—Morning  Paper. 


This  announcement  will  explain  the  following 
lines,  which  have  been  put  into  our  box  with  a  West- 
End  post-mark.  If,  as  we  believe,  they  are  written 
by  the  young  woman  from  whom  the  Millionnaire 
borrowed  the  sum  on  which  he  raised  his  fortune, 
what  heart  will  not  melt  with  sympathy  at  her  tale, 
and  pity  the  sorrows  which  she  expresses  in  such  art- 
less language  ? 

If  it  be  not  too  late  ;  if  wealth  have  not  rendered 
its  possessor  callous ;  if  poor  MARY  ANNE  be  still  alive  ; 
we  trust,  we  trust,  MR.  PLUSH  will  do  her  justice. 

JEAMES    OF    BUCKLEY    SQUARE. 
A   HELIGY. 

Come  all  ye  gents  vot  cleans  the  plate. 

Come  all  ye  ladies'  maids  so  fair — 
Vile  I  a  story  vil  relate 

Of  cruel  JEAMES  of  Buckley  Square. 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  11 


A  tighter  lad,  it  is  confest, 

Neer  valked  vith  powder  in  his  air, 

Or  vore  a  nosegay  in  his  breast, 

Than  andsum  JEAMES  of  Buckley  Square. 

0  Evns  !  it  vas  the  best  of  sights, 

Behind  his  Master's  coach  and  pair, 
To  see  our  JEAMES  in  red  plush  tights, 

A  driving  hoff  from  Buckley  Square. 
He  vel  became  his  hagwiletts, 

He  cocked  his  at  with  such  a  hair  ; 
His  calves  and  viskers  vas  such  pets, 

That  hall  loved  JEAMES  of  Buckley  Square. 

He  pleased  the  hup-stairs  folks  as  velL 

And  o  !  I  vithered  vith  despair, 
Misses  vould  ring  the  parler  bell, 

And  call  up  JEAMES  in  Buckley  Square. 
Both  beer  and  sperrits  he  abhord, 

(Sperrits  and  beer  I  can't  a  bear,) 
You  would  have  thought  he  vas  a  lord 

Down  in  our  All  in  Buckley  Square. 

Last  year  he  visper'd  "  MARY  HANN, 
Ven  I  've  an  under'd  pound  to  spare, 

To  take  a  public  is  my  plan, 

And  leave  this  hojous  Buckley  Square." 


12  JEAMES' S    DIARY. 


0  how  my  gentle  heart  did  bound, 
To  think  that  I  his  name  should  bear. 

"  Dear  JEAMES,"  says  I,  "  I  've  twenty  pound," 
And  gev  them  him  in  Buckley  Square. 

Our  master  vas  a  City  gent, 

His  name 's  in  railroads  everywhere ; 
And  lord,  vot  lots  of  letters  vent 

Betwigst  his  brokers  and  Buckley  Square  ' 
My  JEAMES  it  was  the  letters  took, 

And  read  'em  all,  (I  think  it's  fair,) 
And  took  a  leaf  from  Master's  book, 

As  hothers  do  in  Buckley  Square. 

Encourage*  with  my  twenty  pound, 

Of  which  poor  /was  unavare, 
He  wrote  the  Companies  all  round. 

And  signed  hisself  from  Buckley  Square. 
And  how  JOHN  PORTER  used  to  grin, 

As  day  by  day,  share  after  share. 
Came  railvay  letters  pouring  in, 

"  J.  PLUSH,  Esquire,  in  Buckley  Square." 

Our  servants'  All  was  in  a  rage — 

Scrip,  stock,  curves,  gradients,  bull  and  bear, 
Vith  butler,  coachman,  groom  and  page, 

Vas  all  the  talk  in  Buckley  Square. 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  13 

But  0  !  imagine  vat  I  felt 

Last  Vensdy  veek  as  ever  were ; 
I  gits  a  letter,  which  I  spelt 

"  Mis  M.  A.  HOGGINS,  Buckley  Square." 

He  sent  me  back  my  money  true — 

He  sent  me  back  my  lock  of  air, 
And  said,  "  My  dear,  I  bid  ajew 

To  MARY  HANN  and  Buckley  Square. 
Think  not  to  marry,  foolish  HANN, 

With  people  who  your  betters  are ; 
JAMES  PLTJSH  is  now  a  gentleman, 

And  you — a  cook  in  Buckley  Square. 

"  I've  thirty  thousand  guineas  won, 

In  six  short  months,  by  genus  rare ; 
You  little  thought  what  JEAMES  was  on, 

Poor  MARY  HANN,  in  Buckley  Square. 
I've  thirty  thousand  guineas  net, 

Powder  and  plush  I  scorn  to  vear ; 
And  so,  Miss  MARY  ANN,  forget 

For  hever  JEAMES,  of  Buckley  Square." 


The  rest  of  the  MS.  is  illegible,  being  literally 
washed  away  in  a  flood  of  tears. 


14  JEAMEb's    DIARY. 


A  LETTER  FROM  "jEAMES,  OF  BUCKLEY  SQUARE." 

ALBANY,  Letter  X.,  August  10,  1845. 

"  SIR  : — Has  a  reglar  suscriber  to  your  emusing 
paper,  I  beg  leaf  to  state  that  I  should  never  have 
done  so,  had  I  supposed  that  it  was  your  abbit  to 
igspose  the  mistaries  of  privit  life,  and  to  hinger  the 
delligit  feelings  of  umble  individyouals  like  myself, 
who  have  no  ideer  of  being  made  the  subject  of 
newspaper  criticism. 

''  I  elude,  Sir,  to  the  unjustafiable  use  which  has 
been  made  of  my  name  in  your  Journal,  where  both 
my  muccantile  speclations  and  the  hinmost  pashsn 
of  my  art  have  been  brot  forrards  in  a  ridicklus 
way  for  the  public  emusemint. 

"  What  call,  Sir,  has  the  public  to  inquire  into 
the  suckmstancies  of  my  engagements  with  Miss 
MARY  HANN  OGGINS,  or  to  meddle  with  their  rup- 
sher  ?  Why  am  I  to  be  maid  the  hobjick  of  your 
redicule  in  a  doggril  ballit  impewted  to  her  !  I  say 
impewted,  because  in  my  time  at  least  MARY  HANN 
could  only  sign  her  -f  mark  (has  I've  hoften  witnist 
it  for  her  when  she  paid  hin  at  the  Savings  Bank) 
and  has  for  sacra/icing  to  the  Mewses  and  making 
poatry,  she  was  as  hincapible  as  MR.  WAKLEY  him- 
self. 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  15 


"  With  respect  to  the  ballit,  my  baleaf  is,  that  it 
is  wrote  by  a  footman  in  a  low  famly,  a  pore  retch 
who  attempted  to  rivle  me  in  my  affections  to  MARY 
HANN — a  feller  not  five  foot  six,  and  with  no  more 
calves  to  his  legs  than  a  donkey — who  was  always  a 
ritin  (having  been  a  doctors  boy)  and  who  I  nockt 
down  with  a  pint  of  porter  (as  he  well  recklex)  at  the 
3  Tuns  Jerming  Street,  for  daring  to  try  to  make  a 
but  of  me.  He  has  signed  Miss  H's  name  to  his 
nonsince  and  lies  :  and  you  lay  yourself  hopen  to  a 
haction  for  lible  for  insutting  them  in  your  paper. 

"  It  is  false  that  I  have  treated  Miss  H.  hill  in 
hamj  way.  That  I  borrowed  201b  of  her  is  trew. 
But  she  confesses  I  paid  it  back.  Can  hall  people 
say  as  much  of  the  money  they've  lent  or  borrowed  ? 
No.  And  I  not  only  paid  it  back  :  but  giv  her  the 
andsomest  pres'nts  which  I  never  should  have  eluded 
to,  but  for  this  attack.  Fust,  a  silver  thimble  (which 
I  found  in  Missus's  work-box) ;  secknd,  a  vollom  of 
BYROM'S  poems :  third,  I  halways  brought  her  a  glass 
of  Curasore,  when  we  ad  a  party,  of  which  she  was 
remarkable  fond.  I  treated  her  to  HASHLEY'S  twice 
(and  halways  a  srimp  or  a  hoyster  by  the  way),  and 
a  thowsnd  deligit  attentions,  which  I  sapose  count 
for  nothink. 

"  Has  for  marridge.  Haltered  suckmstancies  ren- 
dered it  himpossable.  I  was  gone  into  a  new  spear 
of  life — mingling  with  my  native  aristoxy.  I  breathe 


16  JE AMES'S  DIARY. 


no  sallible  of  blame  aginst  Miss  H.,  but  his  a  hillit- 
erit  cookmaid  fit  to  set  at  a  fashnable  table?  Do 
young  fellers  of  rank  genrally  marry  out  of  the 
Kitching?  If  we  cast  our  i's  upon  a  low-born  gal, 
I  needn  say  its  only  a  tempory  distraction,  pore  passy 
le  tong.  So  much  for  her  claims  upon  me.  Has  for 
that  beest  of  a  Doctor's  boy,  he's  unwuthy  the  notas 
of  a  Gentleman. 

"  That  I've  one  thirty  thousand  Ib,  and  praps 
more,  I  dont  deny.  Ow  much  has  the  Kilossus  of 
Railroads  one,  I  should  like  to  know,  and  what  was 
his  cappitle  ?  I  hentered  the  market  with  201b, 
specklated  Jewdicious,  and  ham  what  I  ham.  So 
may  you  be  (if  you  have  201b,  and  praps  you  haven't) 
— So  may  you  be  :  if  you  choose  to  go  in  &  win. 

"  I  for  my  part  am  jusly  prowd  of  my  suxess,  and 
could  give  you  a  hundred  instances  of  my  gratatude. 
For  igsample,  the  fust  pair  of  hosses  I  bought  (and  a 
better  pair  of  steppers  I  dafy  you  to  see  in  hany  cur- 
ricle), I  crisn'd  Hull  and  Selby,  in  grateful  elusion 
to  my  transackshns  in  that  railroad.  My  riding  Cob 
I  called  very  unhaptly  my  Dublin  and  Galway.  He 
came  down  with  me  the  other  day,  and  I've  jest  sold 
him  at  \  discount. 

"  At  fust  with  prudence  and  modration  I  only 
kep  two  grooms  for  my  stables,  one  of  whom  lickwise 
waited  on  me  at  table.  I  have  now  a  confidenshlc 
servant,  a  vally  de  sharnber — He  curls  my  air  ;  inspex 


JEAMES's    DIARY.  17 


my  accounts,  and  hansers  my  hinvitations  to  dinner. 
I  call  this  Vally  my  Trent  Vally,  for  it  was  the 
prophit  I  got  from  that  exlent  line,  which  injuiced 
me  to  ingage  him. 

"  Besides  my  North  British  plate  and  breakfast 
equipidge — I  have  two  handsom  suvvices  for  dinner 
— the  goold  plate  for  Sundays,  and  the  silver  for 
common  use.  When  I  ave  a  great  party, '  Trent,' 
I  say  to  my  man, '  we  will  have  the  London  and 
Bummingham  plate  to  day  (the  goold),  or  else  the 
Manchester  and  Leeds  (the  silver).'  I  bought  them 
after  realizing  on  the  abuf  lines,  and  if  people  sup- 
pose that  the  companys  made  me  a  presnt  of  the 
plate,  how  can  I  help  it  ? 

"  In  the  sam  way  I  say, '  Trent,  bring  us  a  bottle 
of  Bristol  and  Hexeter  ! '  or,  '  Put  some  Heastern 
Counties  in  hice  ! '  He  knows  what  I  mean  :  it's  the 
wines  I  bought  upon  the  hospicious  tummination  of 
my  connexshn  with  those  two  railroads. 

';  So  strong  indeed  as  this  abbit  become,  that 
being  asked  to  stand  Godfather  to  the  youngest  Miss 
DIDDLE  last  weak,  I  had  her  crisn'd  (provisionally) 
Rosamell — from  the  French  line  of  which  I  am  Di- 
rector ;  and  only  the  other  day,  finding  myself  ray- 
ther  unwell, '  Doctor,'  says  I  to  SIR  JEAMES  CLARK, 
'  I've  sent  to  consult  you  because  my  Midlands  are 
out  of  border :  and  I  want  you  to  send  them  up  to  a 


18  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


premium.'     The  DOCTOR  lafd,  and  I  beleave  told  the 
story  subsquintly  at  Buckinum  P — 11 — s. 

"  But  I  will  trouble  you  no  father.  My  sole 
objict  in  writing  has  been  to  clear  my  car  rater — to 
show  that  I  came  by  my  money  in  a  honrable  way  : 
that  I'm  not  ashaymd  of  the  manner  in  which  I  gaynd 
it,  and  ham  indeed  grateful  for  my  good  fortune. 

"  To  conclude,  I  have  ad  my  podigree  maid  out 
at  the  Erald  Horns  (I  don't  mean  the  Morning 
Erald\  and  have  took  for  my  arms  a  Stagg.  You 
are  corrict  in  stating  that  I  am  of  hancient  Normin 
famly.  This  is  more  than  PEAL -can  say,  to  whomb 
I  applied  for  a  barnetcy ;  but  the  primmier  being  of 
low  igstr action,  natrally  stickles  for  his  horder.  Cou- 
survative  though  I  be,  /  may  change  my  opinions 
before  the  next  Election,  when  I  intend  to  hoffer  my- 
self as  a  Candydick  for  Parlymint. 

"  Meanwild,  I  have  the  honor  to  be,  Sir, 
"  Your  most  obeajnt  Survnt, 

"  FITZ-JAMES  DE  LA  PLUG-HE." 

J  E  A  M  E  S'S        DIARY. 

ONE  day  in  the  panic  week,  our  friend  JEAMES 
called  at  our  Office,  evidently  in  great  perturbation 
of  mind  and  disorder  of  dress.  He  had  no  flower  in 
his  button-hole ;  his  yellow  kid  gloves  were  certainly 
two  days  old.  He  had  not  above  three  of  the  ten 


UiAUY. 


chains  he  usually  sports,  and  his  great  coarse  knotty- 
knuckled  old  hands  were  deprived  of  some  dozen  of 
the  rubies,  emeralds,  and  other  cameos  with  which, 
since  his  elevation  to  fortune,  the  poor  fellow  has 
thought  fit  to  adorn  himself. 

"  How's  scrip,  MR.  JEAMES?"  said  we  pleasantly, 
greeting  our  esteemed  contributor. 

'•  Scrip  be ,"  replied  he.  with  an  expression 

we  cannot  repeat,  and  a  look  of  agony  it  is  impossible 
to  describe  in  print,  and  walked  about  the  parlour 
whistling,  humming,  rattling  his  keys  and  coppers, 
and  showing  other  signs  of  agitation.  At  last,  " Mr. 
Punch"  says  he,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  "  I 
wish  to  speak  to  you  on  a  pint  of  businiss.  I  wish 
to  be  paid  for  my  contribewtions  to  your  paper. 
Suckinstances  is  haltered  with  me.  I — I — in  a 
word,  can  you  lend  me £  for  the  account  ?  " 

He  named  the  sum.  It  was  one  so  great,  that 
we  don't  care  to  mention  it  here  ;  but  on  receiving  a 
cheque  for  the  amount  (on  MESSRS.  PUMP  AND  ALD- 
GATE,  our  bankers),  tears  came  into  the  honest  fel- 
low's eyes.  He  squeezed  our  hand  until  he  nearly 
wrung  it  off,  and,  shouting  to  a  cab,  he  plunged  into 
it  at  our  office-door,  and  was  off  to  the  city. 

Returning  to  our  study,  we  found  he  had  left  on 
our  table  an  open  pocket-book  ;  of  the  contents  of 
which  (for  the  sake  of  safety)  we  took  an  inventory. 
It  contained  : — three  tavern-bills,  paid  ;  a  tailor's 


20  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


ditto,  unsettled  ;  forty-nine  allotments  in  different 
companies,  twenty-six  thousand  seven  hundred  shares 
in  all,  of  which  the  market  value  we  take,  on  an 
average,  to  be  £  discount ;  and  in  an  old  bit  of  paper 
tied  with  pink  riband  a  lock  of  chesnut  hair,  with  the 
initials  M.  A.  H. 

In  the  diary  of  the  pocket-book  was  a  Journal, 
jotted  down  by  the  proprietor  from  time  to  time. 
At  first  the  entries  are  insignificant  ;  as,  for  in- 
stance : — "  3rd  January — Our  beer  in  the  Suvnts' 
Hall  so  precious  small  at  this  Christmas  time  that  I 
reely  muss  give  warning,  &  wood,  but  for  my  dear 
MARY  HANN."  "  February  7 — That  broot  SCREW, 
the  Butler,  wanted  to  kis  her,  but  my  dear  MARY 
HANN  boxt  his  hold  hears,  &  served  him  right.  / 
datest  SCREW." — and  so  forth.  Then  the  diary  re- 
lates to  Stock  Exchange  operations,  until  we  come 
to  the  time  when,  having  achieved  his  successes,  MR. 
JAMES  quitted  Berkeley  Square  and  his  livery,  and 
began  his  life  as  a  speculator  and  a  gentleman  upon 
town.  It  is  from  the  latter  part  of  his  diary  that  we- 
make  the  following 

" EXTRAX  : — 

"  Wen  I  anounced  in  the  Servnts  All  my  axeshn 
of  forting,  and  that  by  the  exasize  of  my  own  talince 
and  ingianiuty  I  had  reerlized  a  summ  of  20,000  Ib. 


DIARY.  21 


(it  was  only  5,  but  what's  the  use  of  a  maim  depre- 
shiating  the  qualaty  of  his  own  mackyrel  ?).  Wen  I 
enounced  my  abrup  intention  to  cut — you  should 
have  sean  the  sensation  among  hall  the  people  ! 
Cook  wanted  to  know  whether  I  woodn  like  a  sweat- 
bred,  or  the  slise  of  the  brest  of  a  Cold  Tucky. 
SCREW,  the  butler,  (womb  I  always  detested  as  a 
hinsalant  hoverbaring  beest,)  begged  me  to  walk  in 
to  the  Hupper  Servnts  All,  and  try  a  glass  of  Shu- 
perior  Shatto  Margo.  Heven  VISP,  the  coachmin, 
eld  out  his  and,  &  said,  "  JEAMES,  I  hopes  theres  no 
quarraling  betwigst  you  &  me,  &  I'll  stand  a  pot 
of  beer  with  pleasure." 

"  The  sickofnts  ! — that  wery  Cook  had  split  on 
me  to  the  Housekeeper  ony  last  week  (catchin  me 
priggin  some  cold  tuttle  soop,  of  which  I'm  remarka- 
ble fond).  Has  for  the  Butler,  I  always  ebommi- 
nated  him  for  his  precious  snears  and  imperence  to 
all  us  Gents  who  woar  livry,  (he  never  would  sit  in 
our  parlour,  fasooth,  nor  drink  out  of  our  mugs  :) 
and  in  regard  of  VISP — why.  it  was  ony  the  day  be- 
fore the  wulgar  beest  hoffered  to  fite  me,  and  thretnd 
to  give  me  a  good  iding  if  I  refused.  '  Gentlemen  and 
ladies,'  says  I,  as  haughty  as  may  be, '  there 's  nothink 
that  I  want  for  that  I  can't  go  for  to  buy  with  iny 
hown  money,  and  take  at  my  lodgins  in  Halbany,  let- 
ter Hex  ;  if  I  'm  ungry  I  've  no  need  to  refresh  my- 
self in  the  bitching?  And.  so  saying,  I  took  a  digna- 


JEAMESS    DIARY. 


fied  ajew  of  these  minnial  domestics  ;  and  ascending 
to  my  epartinent  in  the  4  pair  back,  brushed  the  pow- 
der out  of  my  air,  and,  taking  hoff  those  hojous  liv- 
ries  for  hever,  put  on  a  new  soot,  made  for  me  by 
CULLIN,  of  St.  Jeames  Street,  and  which  fitted  my 
manly  figger  as  tight  as  whacks. 

"  There  was  one  pusson  in  the  house  with  -womb 
I  was  rayther  anxious  to  evoid  a  persnal  leave-taking 
— MARY  HANN  OGGINS,  I  mean — for  iny  art  is  natu- 
ral tender,  and  I  can't  abide  seeing  a  pore  gal  in 
pane.  I  ?d  given  her  previous  the  infamation  of  my 
departure — doing  the  ansom  thing  by  her  at  the 
same  time — paying  her  back  201b.,  which  she'd  lent 
me  6  months  before  ;  and  paying  her  back  not  ony 
the  interest,  but  I  gave  her  an  andsome  pair  of  scis- 
sars  and  a  silver  thimbil.  by  way  of  boanus.  :  MARY 
HANN,'  says  I,  '  suckimstancies  has  haltered  our  rel- 
latif  positions  in  life.  I  quit  the  Servnts'  Hall  for 
hever,  (for  has  for  your  marrying  a  person  in  my 
rank,  that  my  dear  is  hall  gainmin.)  and  so  I  wish 
you  a  good  by  my  good  gal,  and  if  you  want  to  bet- 
ter yourself,  halways  refer  to  me.' 

"  MARY  HANN  didn't  hanser  my  speech,  (which 
I  think  was  remarkable  kind.)  but  looked  at  me  in 
the  face  quite  wild  like,  and  bust  into  somethink  be- 
twigst  a  laugh  and  a  cry,  and  fell  down  with  her  ed 
on  the  kitching  dresser,  where  she  lay  until  her 
young  Missis  rang  the  dressing-room  bell.  Would 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  23 


you  bleave  it  ?  she  left  the  thimbil  &  things.  &  my 
check  for  201b.  10s  on  the  tabil,  when  she  went  to 
hanser  the  bell  ?  And  now  I  heard  her  sobbing  and 
vimpering  in  her  own  room  nex  but  one  to  mine,  with 
the  dore  open,  peraps  expecting  I  should  come  in 
and  say  good  by.  But,  as  soon  as  I  was  dressed.  I 
cut  down  stairs,  hony  desiring  FREDERICK  my  fellow- 
servnt,  to  fetch  me  a  cabb,  and  requesting  permis- 
sion to  take  leaf  of  my  lady  &  the  famly  before  my 

departure." 

***** 

"  How  Miss  HEMLY  did  hogle  me  to  be  sure  ! 
Her  ladyship  told  me  what  a  sweet  gal  she  was — 
hamiable,  fond  of  poetry,  plays  the  gitter.  Then  she 
hasked  me  if  I  liked  blond  bewties  and  haubin  hair. 
Haubin,  indeed !  I  don't  like  carrits  !  as  it  must  be 
confest  Miss  HEMLY'S  his — and  has  for  a  blond  buty 
she  as  pink  I's  like  a  Halbino,  and  her  face  looks  as 
if  it  were  dipt  in  a  brann  mash.  How  she  squeeged 
my  &  as  she  went  away  ! 

"  MARY  HANN  now  has  haubin  air,  and  a  cum- 
plexion  like  roses  and  hivory,  and  I's  as  blew  as 
Evin. 

"  I  gev  FREDERICK  two  and  six  for  fetchin  the 
cabb — been  resolved  to  hact  the  gentleman  in  hall 
things.  How  he  stared  ! " 


24  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


u%5th. — I  am  now  director  of  forty-seven  had- 
vantageous  lines,  and  have  past  hall  day  in  the  Citty. 
Although  I  've  hate  or  nine  new  soots  of  close,  and 
MR.  CULLIX  fitts  me  heligant,  yet  I  fansy  they  hall 
reckonise  me.  Conshns  wispers  to  me — '  JEAMS. 
you'r  hony  a  footman  in  disguise  hafter  all.' " 


"  ZSth. — Been  to  the  Hopra.  Music  tol  lol. 
That  LABLASH  is  a  wopper  at  singing.  I  coodn 
make  out  why  some  people  called  out '  Bravo,'  some 
'  Bravar,'  and  some  '  Bravee.'  '  Bravee,  LABLASH,' 
says  I,  at  which  hevery  body  laft. 

"  I  'm  in  my  new  stall.  I  've  add  new  cushings 
put  in,  and  my  harms  in  goold  on  the  back.  I  'm 
dressed  hall  in  black,  excep  a  gold  waistcoat  and  di- 
mind  studds  in  the  embriderd  busom  of  my  shameese. 
I  wear  a  Camallia  Jiponiky  in  my  button  ole,  and 
have  a  double-barreld  opera  glas.  so  big,  that  I  make 
Timmins,  my  secnd  man,  bring  it  in  the  other  cabb. 

"  What  an  igstronry  exabishn  that  Pawdy  Carter 
is  !  If  those  four  gals  are  faries,  TELUOM  is  sutnly 
the  fairy  Queend.  She  can  do  all  that  they  can  do, 
and  somethink  they  can't.  There's  an  indiscrible 
grace  about  her,  and  CARLOTTY.  my  sweet  CARLOTTY, 
she  sets  my  art  in  flams. 

"Ow  that  Miss  HEMLY  was  noddin  and  winkin 
at  me  out  of  their  box  on  the  fourth  tear  ? 


JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


"  What  linx  i's  she  must  av.  As  if  I  could 
mount  up  there ! 

"  P.  S.  Talking  of  mounting  hup  !  the  St. 
Helena's  walked  up  4  per  cent  this  very  day." 


"  2d  July.  Rode  my  bay  oss  Desperation  in  the 
park.  There  was  me,  LORD  GEORGE  RJNGWOOD 
(LORD  CINQBAR'S  son),  LORD  BALLYBUNNION,  HON- 
ORABLE CAPTING  TRAP,  &  sevral  hother  young 
swells.  SIR  JOHN'S  carridge  there  in  coarse.  Miss 
HEMLY  lets  fall  her  booky  as  I  pass,  and  I  'm  obleged 
to  get  hoff  and  pick  it  hup,  and  get  splashed  up  to 
the  his.  The  gettin  on  hoss  back  agin  is  halways  the 
juice  and  hall.  Just  aa  I  was  hon,  Desperation  be- 
gins a  porring  the  hair  with  his  4  feet,  and  sinks 
down  so  on  his  anches,  that  I  'm  blest  if  I  didn't 
slipp  hoff  agin  over  his  tail ;  at  which  BALLYBUN- 
NION &  the  other  chaps  rord  with  lafter. 

"  As  BALLY  has  istates  in  Queen's  County,  I  've 
put  him  on  the  Saint  Helena  direction.  We  call  it 
the  'Great  St.  Helena  Napoleon  Junction,'  from 
Jamestown  to  Longwood.'  The  French  are  taking 
it  hup  heagerly." 


"  6tk  July.    Dined  to-day  at  the  London  Tavin 

with  one  of  the  Welsh  bords  of  Direction  I  'm  hon. 
2 


26  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


The  Cwrwmwrw  &  Plmwyddlywm,  with  tunnilg 
through  Snowding^and  Plinlimming. 

"  Great  nashnallity  of  coarse.  AP  SHINKIN  in 
the  chair,  AP  LLWYDD  in  the  vice  ;  Welsh  mutton 
for  dinner  ;  Welsh  iron  knives  &  forks  ;  Welsh  rab- 
bit after  dinner  ;  and  a  Welsh  harper,  be  hanged  to 
him  ;  he  went  strummint  on  his  hojous  instrument, 
and  played  a  toon  piguliarly  disagreeble  to  me. 

"  It  was  Pore  Mary  Hann.  The  clarrit  holmost 
choaked  me  as  I  tried  it,  and  I  very  nearly  wep  my- 
self as  I  thought  of  her  bewtifle  blue  i's.  Why  ham 
I  always  thinkin  about  that  gal  ?  Sasiaty.is  sasiaty, 
it's  lors  is  irresistabl.  Has  a  man  of  rank  I  can't 
marry  a  serving-made.  What  would  CINQBAR  & 
BALLYBUNNION  say? 

P.  S. — I  don't  like  the  way  that  CINGBARS  has 
of  borroing  money,  &  halways  making  me  pay  the 
bill.  Seven  pound  six  at  the  Shipp,  Grinnidge, 
which  I  don't  grudge  it,  for  DERBYSHIRE'S  brown 
Ock  is  the  best  in  Urup ;  nine  pound  three  at  the 
Trafflygar,  and  seventeen  pound  sixteen  and  nine  at 
the  Star  &  Garter,  Richmond,  with  the  COUNTESS 
ST.  EMILION  &  the  BARONESS  FRONTIGNAC.  Not  one 
word  of  French  could  I  speak,  and  in  consquince  had 
nothink  to  do  but  to  make  myself  halmost  sick  with 
heating  ices  and  desert,  while  the  hothers  were  chat- 
tering &  parlyvooing. 

"  Ha  !  I  remember  going  to  Grinnidge  once  with 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  27 


MARY  HANN,  when  we  were  more  happy,  (after  a 
walk  in  the  park,  where  we  ad  one  gingy-beer  be- 
twigst  us,)  more  appy  with  tea  and  a  simple  srimp 
than  with  hall  this  splender  !  " 


"  July  24.  My  first  floor  apartmince  in  the  Hal- 
biny  is  now  kimpletely  and  chasely  funnished — the 
droring-room  with  yellow  satting  and  silver  for  the 
chairs  and  sophies — hemrall  green  tabbinet  curtings 
with  pink  velvet  &  goold  borders  &  fringes ;  a  light 
blue  Haxminster  Carpit,  embroydered  with  tulips ; 
tables,  secritaires,  cunsoles,  &c.,  as  handsome  as  goold 
can  make  them,  and  candlesticks  and  shandalers  of 
the  purest  Hormolew. 

"  The  Dining-room  funniture  is  all  hoak,  British 
Hoak ;  round  igspanding  table,  like  a  trick  in  a  Pan- 
timime,  iccommadatingany  number  from  8  to  24 — to 
which  it  is  my  wish  to  restrict  my  parties — Curtings 
Crimsing  damask,  Chairs  crimsing  myrocky.  Por- 
tricks  of  my  favorite  great  men  decorats  the  wall — 
namely,  the  DUKE  OF  WELLINGTON.  There's  four  of 
his  Grace.  For  Ive  remarked  that  if  you  wish  to 
pass  for  a  nfan  of  weight  &  considdration  you  should 
holways  praise  and  quote  him — I  have  a  valluble  one 
lickwise  of  my  QUEEND.  and  2  of  PRINCE  HALBERT — 
as  a  Field  Martial  and  halso  as  a  privat  Gent.  I 
despise  the  vulgar  snears  that  are  daily  hullered 


28  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


aginst  that  Igsolted  Pottentat.     Betwigxt  the  Prins 

6  the  Duke  hangs  me,  in  the  Uniform  of  the  Cinqbar 
Malitia,  of  which  Cinqbars  has  made  me  Capting. 

"  The  Libery  is  not  yet  done. 

"  But  the  Bedd-roomb  is  the  Jem  of  the  whole 
— if  you  could  but  see  it !  such  a  Bedworr !  Ive  a 
Shyval  Dressing  Glass  festooned  with  Walanseens 
Lace,  and  lighted  up  of  evenings  with  rose  coloured 
tapers.  Goold  dressing  case  and  twilet  of  Dreading 
Cheny — My  bed  white  and  gold  with  curtings  of  pink 
and  silver  brocayd  held  up  at  top  by  a  goold  Qpid 
who  seems  always  a  smiling  angillicly  hon  me,  has  I 
lay  with  my  Ed  on  my  piller  hall  sarounded  with  the 
finst  Mechlin.  I  have  a  own  man,  a  yuth  under 
him,  2  groombs,  and  a  fimmale  for  the  House — I'  ve 

7  osses :  in  cors  if  I  hunt  this  winter  I  must  increase 
my  ixtablishment. 

"  N.B.  Heverythink  looking  well  in  the  City. 
SAINT  HELENAS,  12  pm.,  MADAGASCARS,  9|,  SAFFRON 
HILL  &  ROOKERY  Junction,  24,  and  the  new  lines  in 
prospick  equily  incouraging. 


"  People  phansy  its  hall  gaiety  and  "pleasure  the 
life  of  us  fashnabble  gents  about  townd — But  I  can 
tell  'em  its  not  hall  goold  that  glitters.  They  don't 
know  our  momints  of  hagony — hour  ours  of  studdy 
and  reflecshun.  They  little  think  when  they  see 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  29 


JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE,  Exquire.  worling  round  in 
walce  at  Halmax  with  LADY  HANN,  or  lazaly  stepping 
a  kidrill  with  LADY  JANE,  poring  helegant  nothinx 
into  the  Countess's  hear  at  dinner,  or  gallopin  his 
hoss  Desperation  hover  the  exorcisin  ground  in  the 
Park, — they  little  think  that  leader  of  the  tong,  sea- 
minkly  so  rickliss,  is  a  careworn  mann !  and  yet  so 
it  is. 

"  Imprymus.  I  've  been  ableged  to  get  up  all 
the  ecomplishments  at  double  quick,  &  to  apply  my- 
self with  treemenjuous  energy. 

"  First,  — in  border  to  give  myself  a  hideer  of 
what  a  gentleman  reely  is — I  've  read  the  novvle  of 
Pelham  six  times,  and  ham  to  go  through  it  4  times 
mor. 

"  I  practis  ridin  and  the  acquirement  of '  a  steady 
&  a  sure  seat  across  Country'  assijuously  4  times  a 
week,  at  the  Hippydrum  Riding  Grounds.  Many's 
the  tumbil  I  've  ad,  and  the  aking  boans  I  've  suffered 
from,  though  I  was  grinnin  in  the  Park  or  laffin  at 
the  Opra. 

"  Every  morning  from  6  till  9,  the  innabitance  of 
Halbany  may  have  been  surprised  to  hear  the  sounds 
of  music  ishuing  from  the  apartmince  of  JEAMES  DE 
LA  PLUCHE,  Exquire,  Letter  Hex.  It 's  my  dancing- 
master.  From  six  to  nine  we  have  walces  and  polkies 
— at  nine  '  mangtiang  &  depotment,'  as  he  calls  it ; 
&  the  manner  of  hentering  a  room,  complimenting 


30  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


the  ost  &  ostess  &  compotting  yourself  at  table.  At 
nine  I  henter  from  my  dressing-room  (has  to  a  party), 
I  make  my  bow — my  master  (he 's  a  Marquis  in 
France,  and  ad  misfortins,  being  connected  with 
young  LEWY  NEPOLEUM)  reseaves  me — I  hadwance 
— speak  abowt  the  weather  &  the  toppix  of  the  day 
in  an  elegant  &  cussory  manner.  Brekfst  is  enounced 
by  FITZWARREN,  my  mann — we  precede  to  the  festive 
bord — complimence  is  igschanged  with  the  manner 
of  drinking  wind,  adressing  your  neighbour,  employ- 
ing your  napking  &  finger-glas,  &c.  And  then  we 
fall  to  brekfst,  when  I  prommiss  you  the  Marquis 
don't  eat  like  a  commoner.  He  says  I  'm  getten  on 
very  well — soon  I  shall  be  able  to  inwite  people  to 
brekfst,  like  MR.  MILLS,  my  rivle  in  Halbany  ;  MR. 
MACAULY  (who  wrote  that  sweet  book  of  ballets. 
'•'  The  Lays  of  Hancient  Rum) ;  &  the  great  MR. 
RODGERS  himself. 


"  The  above  was  wrote  some  weeks  back.  I  have 
given  brekfsts  sins  then,  reglar  Deshunys.  I  have 
ad  Earls  and  Ycounts — Barnits  as  many  as  I  chose : 
and  the  pick  of  the  Railway  world,  of  which  I  form 
a  member.  Last  Sunday  was  a  grand  Fate.  I  had 
the  Eleet  of  my  friends  :  the  display  was  sumtious  ; 
the  company  reshershy.  Everything  that  Dellixy 
could  suggest  was  by  GUNTER  provided.  I  had  a 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  31 

Countiss  on  my  right,  &  (the  COUNTESS  OF  WIGGLES- 
BURY,  that  loveliest  and  most  dashing  of  Staggs,  who 
may  be  called  the  Railway  Queend,  as  my  friend 

GEORGE  H is  the  Railway  King) — on  my  left 

the  LADY  BLANCHE  BLUENOSE — PRINCE  TOWROWSKI 
— the  great  HUDDLESTONE  FUDDLESTONE,  from  the 
North,  and  a  skoar  of  the  fust  of  the  fashn.  I  was 
in  my  gloary.  The  dear  COUNTESS  and  LADY 
BLANCHE  was  dying  with  laffing  at  my  joax  and  fun. 
I  was  keeping  the  whole  table  in  a  roar — when  there 
eame  a  ring  at  my  door-bell,  and  sudnly  FITZ- 
WARREN,  my  man,  henters  with  an  air  of  constana- 
tion  :  "  Theres  somebody  at  the  door,"  says  he,  in  a 
visper. 

"'  0,  it's  that  dear  LADY  HEMILY,'  says  I,  'and 
that  lazy  raskle  of  a  husband  of  her's.  Trot  them 
in,  FITZWARREN'  (for  you  see,  by  this  time  I  had 
adopted  quite  the  manners  and  hease  of  the  arris- 
toxy). — And  so,  going  out,  with  a  look  of  wonder 
he  returned  presently,  enouncing  MR.  &  MRS. 
BLODDEE,. 

"  I  turned  gashly  pail.  The  table — the  guests — 
the  Countiss — TOWROUSKI,  and  the  rest,  wealed  round 
&  round  before  my  hagitated  I's.  It  was  my  Grand- 
mother and  HUNCLE  BILL.  She  is  a  washerwoman 
at  Healing  Common,  and  he — he  keeps  a  wegetable 
donkey-cart. 

"  Y,  Y  hadn't  JOHN,  the  tiger,  igscluded  them  ? 


.32  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


He  had  tried.     But  the  unconscious,  though  worthy 
creeters,  adwanced  in  spite  of  him,  HUNCLE  BILL 
bringing  in  the  old  lady  grinning  on  his  arm  ! 
"  Phansy  my  feelinx." 


"  Immagin  when  these  unfortnat  members  of  my 
famly  hentered  the  room :  you  may  phansy  the  ix- 
tonnishment  of  the  nobil  company  presnt.  Old 
Grann  looked  round  the  room  quite  estounded  by 
its  horientle  splender,  and  huncle  BILL  (pulling  hoff 
his  phantail,  &  seluting  the  company  as  respeckfly 
as  his  wulgar  natur  would  alow)  says — '  Crikey, 
JEAMES,  you've  got  a  better  birth  here  than  you  ad 
where  you  were  in  the  plush  and  powder  line.'  '  Try 
a  few  of  them  plovers  hegs,  sir,'  I  says,  wishing.  I'm 
asheamed  to  say,  that  somethink  would  choke  huncle 

B ;  '  and  I  hope,  mam,  now  you've  ad  the  kind- 

niss  to  wisit  me,  a  little  refreshmint  wont  be  out  of 
your  way.' 

"  This  I  said,  detmnmind  to  put  a  good  fase  on 
the  matter ;  and  because,  in  herly  times,  I'd  reseaved 
a  great  deal  of  kindniss  from  the  hold  lady,  which  I 
should  be  a  roag  to  forgit.  She  paid  for  my  school- 
ing ;  she  got  up  my  fine  linning  gratis ;  shes  given 
me  many  &  many  a  Ib  ;  and  manys  the  time  in  appy 
appy  days  when  me  and  MARYHANN  has  taken  tea. 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  33 


But  never  mind  that.  '  Mam,'  says  I, £  you  must  be 
tired  hafter  your  walk.' 

"  '  Walk  ?  Nonsince,  JEAMES,'  says  she  ;  '  its 
Saturday,  &  I  came  in,  in  the  cart?  '  Black  or  green 
tea,  maam  ? '  says  FITZWARREN,  intarupting  her. 
And  I  will  say  the  feller  showed  his  nouce  &  good 
breeding  in  this  difficklt  momink ;  for  he'd  halready 
silenced  huncle  BILL,  whose  mouth  was  now  full  of 
muffinx,  am,  Blowny  sausag,  Perrigole  pie,  and  other 
dellixies. 

"  Wouldn't  you  like  a  little  somethink  in  your 
tea,  Mam.,'  says  that  sly  wagg  CINQBARS.  '  He  knows 
what  I  likes,'  replies  the  hawfle  hold  Lady,  pinting 
to  me  (which  I  knew  it  very  well,  having  often  seen 
her  take  a  glas  of  hojous  gin  along  with  her  Bohee), 
and  so  I  was  ableeged  to  border  FITZWARREN  to 
bring  round  the  licures,  and  to  help  my  unfortint 
rellatif  to  a  bumper  of  Ollands.  She  tost  it  hoff  to 
the  elth  of  the  company,  giving  a  smack  with  her 
lipps  after  she'd  emtied  the  glas,  which  very  nearly 
caused  me  to  phaint  with  hagny.  But,  luckaly  for 
me,  She  didn't  igspose  herself  much  farther :  for 
when  CINQBARS  was  pressing  her  to  take  another  glas, 
I  cried  out,  '  Don't,  my  lord  ! '  on  which  old  Grann, 
hearing  him  edressed  by  his  title,  cried  out, '  A  Lord  ! 
o,  law  ! '  and  got  up  and  made  him  a  cutsy,  and  coodnt 
be  peswaded  to  speak  another  word.  The  presents 

of  the  noble  gent,  heavidently  made  her  uneezy. 

2* 


34  JEAMES'S    DIARV. 


"  The  Countiss  on  my  right  and  had  shownt 
symtms  of  ixtream  disgust  at  the  beayviour  of  my 
relations,  and,  having  called  for  her  carridge.  got  up 
to  leave  the  room,  with  the  most  dignified  hair.  I, 
of  coarse,  rose  to  conduct  her  to  her  weakle.  Ah, 
what  a  contrast  it  was  !  There  it  stood,  with  stars 
and  garters  hall  hover  the  pannels ;  the  footmiu  in 
peach-coloured  tites ;  the  hosses  worth  3  hundred 
a-peace ; — and  there  stood  the  horrid  linnen-cart, 
with  '  MARY  BLODDER,  Laundress,  Ealing,  Middle- 
sex,' wrote  on  the  bord,  and  waiting  until  my  aban- 
dind  old  parint  should  come  out. 

"  CINQBARS  insisted  upon  helping  her  in.  SIR 
HUDDLESTON  FUDDLES-TONE,  the  great  barnet  from 
the  North,  who,  great  as  he  is,  is  as  stewpid  as  a 
howl,  looked  on,  hardly  trusting  his  goggle  I's  as 
they  witnessed  the  Sean.  But  little  lively  good 
naterd  LADY  KITTY  QUICKSET,  who  was  going  away 
with  the  Countiss.  held  her  little  &  out  of  the 
carridge  to  me  and  said,"'  MR.  DE  LA  PLUCHE,  you 
are  a  much  better  man  than  I  took  you  to  be. 
Though  her  Ladyship  is  horrified,  and  though  your 
Grandmother  did  take  gin  for  breakfast,  don't  give 
her  up.  No  one  ever  came  to  harm  yet  for  honoring 
their  father  &  mother.' 

"  And  this  was  a  sort  of  consolation  to  me.  and  I 
observed  that  at  all  the  good  fellers  thought  none 
the  wuss  of  me.  CINQBARS  said  I  was  a  trump  for 


JEAMES's    DIARY.  35 


sticking  up  for  the  old  washerwoman ;  LORD  GEORGE 
GILLS  said  she  should  have  his  linning ;  and  so  they 
cut  their  joax,  and  I  let  them.  But  it  was  a  great 
releaf  to  my  mind  when  the  cart  drove  hoff. 

"  There  was  one  pint  which  my  Grandmother 
observed,  and  which,  I  muss  say,  I  thought  lickwise; 
1  Ho,  JEAMES,'  says  she,  '  hall  those  fine  ladies  in 
sattns  and  velvets  is  very  well,  but  there's  not  one  of 
em  can  hold  a  candle  to  MARY  HANN.'  " 


"  Railway  Spec  is  going  on  phamusly.  You 
should  see  how  polite  they  har  at  my  bankers  now  ! 
SIR  PAUL  PUMP  ALDGATE  &  COMPANY.  They  bow 
me  out  of  the  back  parlor  as  if  I  was  a  Nybobb. 
Every  body  says  I  'm  worth  half  a  millium.  The 
number  of  lines  they're  putting  me  upon,  is  inkum- 
seavable.  I've  put  FITZWARREN,  my  man,  upon 
several.  REGINALD  FITZWARREN,  Esquire,  looks 
splended  in  a  perspectus ;  and  the  raskle  owns  that 
he  has  made  two  thowsnd. 

"  How  the  ladies  &  men  too,  foller  &  flatter  me ! 
If  I  go  into  LADY  BINSIS  hopra  box,  she  makes  room 
for  me,  who  ever  is  there,  and  cries  out, '  0  do  make 
room  for  that  dear  creature  ! '  And  she  comply- 
ments  me  on  my  taste  in  musick,  or  my  new  Broom- 
oss,  or  the  phansy  of  my  weskit,  and  always  ends  by 
asking  me  for  some  shares.  Old  LORD  BAREACRES. 


36  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


as  stiff  as  a  poaker,  as  prowd  as  Loosyfer,  as  poor  as 
JOAB — even  he  condysends  to  be  sivvle  to  the  great 
DE  LA  PLTJCHE,  -and  begged  me  at  HARTHUR'S,  lately, 
in  his  sollom,  pompus  way, '  to  faver  him  with  five 
minutes  conversation.'  I  knew  what  was  coming — 
application  for  shares — put  him  down  on  my  private 
list.  Wouldn't  mind  the  Scrag  End  Junction  pass- 
ing through  Bareacres — hoped  I'd  come  down  and 
shoot  there. 

"  I  gave  the  old  humbugg  a  few  shares  out  of  my 
own  pocket.  '  There,  old  Pride,'  says  I,  '  I  like  to 
see  you  down  on  your  knees  to  a  footman.  There, 
old  Pompossaty !  Take  fifty  pound  ;  I  like  to  see 
you  come  cringing  and  begging  for  it.'  Whenever  I 
see  him  in  a  very  public  place,  I  take  my  change  for 
my  money.  I  digg  him  in  the  ribbs,  or  slap  his 
padded  old  shoulders.  I  call  him  '  BAREACRES.  my 
old  buck ! '  and  I  see  him  wince.  It  does  my  art 
good. 

"I'm  in  low  sperits.  A  disagreeable  insadent 
has  just  occurred.  LADY  PUMP,  the  banker's  wife, 
asked  me  to  dinner.  I  sat  on  her  right,  of  coarse, 
with  an  uncommon  gal  ner  me,  with  whom  I  was  get- 
ting on  in  my  fassanating  way — full  of  lacy  ally  (as 
the  Marquis  says)  and  easy  plesntry.  Old  PUMP. 
from  the  end  of  the  table,  asked  me  to  drink  Sham- 
pane  ;  and  on  turning  to  tak  the  glass,  I  saw  CHARLES 
WACKLES  (with  womb  I  'd  been  imployed  at  COLONEL 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  37 


SPURRIER'S  house)  grinning  over  his  shoulder  at  the 
Butler. 

"  The  beest  reckonized  me.  Has  I  was  putting 
on  my  palto  in  the  hall,  he  came  up  again :  '  How  dy 
doo,  JEAMES,'  says  he,  in  a  findish  visper.  '  Just 
come  out  here,  CHAWLES,'  says  I,  '  I  've  a  word  foi 
you,  my  old  boy.'  So  I  beckoned  him  into  Portland 
Place,  with  my  pus  in  my  hand,  as  if  I  was  going  to 
give  him  a  sovaring. 

" '  I  think  you  said  "  JEAMES,"  CHAWLES,'  says  I, 
'  and  grind  at  me  at  dinner  ?  ' 

" '  Why,  sir,'  says  he,  '  we  're  old  friends,  you 
know.' 

" '  Take  that  for  old  friendship,  then,'  says  I,  '  and 
I  gave  him  just  one  on  the  noas,  which  sent  him  down 
on  the  pavemint  as  if  he  'd  been  shot.'  And  mount- 
ing myjesticly  into  my  cabb,  I  left  the  rest  of  the 
grinning  scoundrills  to  pick  him  up,  &  droav  to  the 
Clubb." 


"  Have  this  day  kimpleated  a  little  efair  with  my 
friend  GEORGE,  EARL  BAREACRES,  which  I  trust  will 
be  to  the  advantidge  both  of  self  &  that  noble  gent. 
Adjining  the  BARE  ACRE  proppaty  is  a  small  piece  of 
land  of  about  100  acres,  called  Squallop  Hill,  igseed- 
ing  advantageous  for  the  cultivation  of  sheep,  which 
have  been  found  to  have  a  pickewlear  fine  flaviour 


38  JEAMES'S    DIAKY. 


from  the  natur  of  the  grass,  tyme,  heather,  and  other 
hodarefarus  plants  which  grows  on  that  mounting  in 
the  places  where  the  rox  and  stones  dont  prevent 
them.  Thistles  here  is  also  remarkable  fine,  and  the 
land  is  also  divided  hoff  by  luxurient  Stone  Hedges 
— much  more  usefle  and  ickonomicle  than  your  quick- 
set, or  any  of  that  rubbishing  sort  of  timber  ;  indeed 
the  sile  is  of  that  fine  natur,  that  timber  refuses  to 
grow  there  altogether.  I  gave  BAREACRES  50£  an 
acre  for  this  land  (the  igsact  premium  of  my  St. 
Helena  Shares) — a  very  handsom  price  for  land  which 
never  yielded  two  shillings  an  acre ;  and  very  con- 
venient to  his  Lordship,  I  know,  who  had  a  bill 
coming  due  at  his  Bankers  which  he  had  given  them. 
JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE,  Esquire,  is  thus  for  the  fust 
time  a  landed  propriator — or  rayther,  I  should  say, 
is  about  to  reshume  the  rank  &  dignity  in  the  country 
which  his  Hancestors  so  long  occupied." 


"  I  have  caused  one  of  our  inginears  to  make  me 
a  plann  of  the  Squallop  Estate,  Diddlesexshire,  the 
property  of  &c..  &c.,  bordered  on  the  North  by  LORD 
BAREACRES'  Country ;  on  the  West  by  Sir.  G-RANBY 
GROWLER  ;  on  the  South  by  the  Hotion.  An  Arky- 
tect  &  Survare,  a  young  feller  of  great  imagination, 
womb  we  have  employed  to  make  a  survey  of  the 
Great  Caffrarian  line,  has  built  me  a  beautiful  Villar 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  39 


(on  paper),  Plushton  Hall,  Diddlesex,  the  seat  of  I  DE 
LA  P.,  Esquire.  The  house  is  reprasented  a  hand- 
some Itallian  Structer,  imbusmd  in  woods,  and  cir- 
cumwented  by  beautiful  gardings.  Theres  a  lake  in 
front  with  boatsfull  of  nobillaty  and  musitions  floting 
on  its  placid  sufface — and  a  curricle  is  a  driving  up 
to  the  grand  hcntrance,  and  me  in  it,  with  MRS.  or 
perhaps  LADY  HANGELANA  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  I  speak 
adwisedly.  I  may  be  going  to  form  a  noble  kinexion. 
I  may  be  (by  marridge)  going  to  unight  my  famly 
once  mor  with  Harrystoxy,  from  which  misfortn  has 
for  some  sentries  separated  us.  I  have  dreams  of 
that  sort. 

"  I've  sean  sevral  times  in  a  dalitifle  vishn  a 
serting  Erl,  standing  in  a  hattitude  of  bennydiction, 
and  rattafying  my  union  with  a  serting  butifle  young 
lady,  his  daughter.  Phansy  MR.  or  SIR  JEAMES  and 
LADY  HANGELINA  DE  LA  PLUCHE  !  Ho  !  what  will  the 
old  washywoman,  my  grandmother,  say  ?  She  may 
sell  her  mangle  then,  and  shall  too  by  my  honour  as 
a  Gent." 


"  As  for  Squallop  Hill,  its  not  to  be  emadgind 
that  I  was  going  to  give  5000  Ib.  for  a  bleak  mount- 
ing like  that,  unless  I  had  some  ideer  in  vew.  Ham 
I  not  a  Director  of  the  Grand  Diddlesex  ?  Dont 
Squallop  lie  amediately  betwigst  Old  Bone  House, 


40  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


Single  Gloster,  and  Scrag  End,  through  which  cities 
our  line  passes?  I  will  have  40,000  Ib.  for  that 
mounting,  or  my  name  is  not  JEAMES.  I  have  aranged 
a  little  barging  too  for  my  friend  the  Erl.  The  line 
will  pass  through  a  hangle  of  Bareacre  Park.  He 
shall  have  a  good  compensation  I  promis  you ;  and 
then  I  shall  get  back  the  3000  I  lent  him.  His 
banker's  acount,  I  fear,  is  in  a  horrid  state." 

[The  Diary  now  for  several  days  contains  particu- 
lars of  no  interest  to  the  public : — Memoranda 
of  City  dinners — meetings  of  Directors — fash- 
ionable parties  in  which  MR.  JEAMES  figures, 
and  almost  always  by  the  side  of  his  new 
friend,  LORD  BAREACRES,  whose  "  pompossaty,' 
as  described  in  the  last  Number,  seems  to 
have  almost  entirely  subsided.] 

We  then  come  to  the  following : — 

"  With  a  prowd  and  thankfle  Art,  I  coppy  off 
this  morning's  Gyzett  the  folloing  news : — 

" '  Commission  signed  by  the  Lord  Lieutenant  of 

the  County  of  Diddlesex. 
" '  JAMES  AUGUSTUS  DE  LA  PLUCHE,  Esquire,  to  be 

Deputy  Lieutenant.' " 


JEAMES'S    DIARV.  41 

"'North  Diddlesex  Regiment  of  Yeomanry 
Cavalry. 

"  '  JAMES  AUGUSTUS  DE  LA  PLUCHE,  Esquire,  to 
be  Captain,  vice  BLOWHARD,  promoted.' " 


"  And  his  it  so  ?  Ham  I  indeed  a  landed  pro- 
priator — a  Deppaty  Leftnant — a  Capting?  May  I 
hatend  the  Cort  of  my  Sovring?  and  dror  a  sayber 
in  my  country's  defens?  I  wish  the  French  wood 
land,  and  me  at  the  head  of  my  squadring  on  my  boss 
Desparation.  How  Id  extonish  'em  !  How  the  gals 
will  stare  when  they  see  me  in  youniform !  How 
MARY  HANN  would — but  nonsince !  I'm  halways 
thinking  of  that  pore  gal.  She's  left  SIR  JOHN'S. 
She  couldn't  abear  to  stay  after  I  went,  I've  heerd 
say.-  I  'hope  she's  got  a  good  place.  Any  summ  of 
money  that  would  sett  her  up  in  bisniss,  or  make  her 
comfarable,  I'd  come  down  with  like  a  mann.  I  told 
my  granmother  so,  who  sees  her,  and  rode  down  to 
Healing  on  porpose  on  Desparation  to  leave  a  five  Ib 
noat  in  anvylope.  But  she's  sent  it  back,  sealed  with 
a  thimbill." 


"  Tuesday.  Reseavd  the  folloing  letter  from  Lord 

B ,  rellatif  to  my  presntation  at  Cort  and  the 

Youniform   I   shall   wear   on   that  hospicious  sera- 
mony : — 


42  JEAMES's    DIARY. 


"  '  MY  DEAR  DE  LA  PLUCHE, 

{: '  I  think  you  had  better  be  presented  as  a 
Deputy  Lieutenant.  As  for  the  Diddlesex  Yeoman- 
ry, I  hardly  know  what  the  uniforn  is  now.  The  last 
time  we  were  out,  was  in  1803,  when  the  Prince  of 
Wales  reviewed  us,  and  when  we  wore  French  grey 
jackets,  leathers,  red  morooco  boots,  crimson  pelisses, 
brass  helmets  with  leopard-skin  and  a  white  plume,  and 
the  regulation  pig-tail  of  eighteen  inches.  That  dress 
will  hardly  answer  at  present,  and  must  be  modified, 
of  course.  We  were  called  the  White  Feathers,  in 
those  days.  For  my  part,  I  decidedly  recommend 
the  Deputy  Lieutenant. 

" '  I  shall  be  happy  to  present  you  at  the  Levee 
and  at  the  Drawing-room.  LADY  BAREACRES  will  be 
in  town  for  the  13th,  with  ANGELINA,  who  will  be 
presented  on  that  day.  My  wife  has  heard  much  of 
you,  and  is  anxious  to  make  your  acquaintance. 

"  '  All  my  people  are  backward  with  their  rents  ; 
for  Heaven's  sake,  my  dear  fellow,  lend  me  five 
hundred  and  oblige 

" '  Yours,  very  gratefully, 

"'  BAREACRES.' 

"  Note.  BAREACRES  may  press  me  about  the 
Depity  Leftnant — but  Pm  for  the  cavvlery." 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  43 


Jewly  will  always  be  a  sacrid  anniwussary  with 
me.  It  was  in  that  month  that  I  became  persnally 
ecquaintid  with  my  Prins  and  my  gracious  Sovarink. 

"  Long  before  the  hospitious  event  acurd,  you  may 
emadgin  that  my  busm  was  in  no  triffling  flutter. 
Sleaplis  of  nights,  I  past  them  thinking  of  the  great 
ewent — or  if  igsosted  natur  did  clothes  my  highlids 
— the  eyedear  of  my  waking  thoughts  pevaded  my 
slummers.  Corts,  Erls,  presntations,  Goldstix,  gra- 
cious Sovarinx  mengling  in  my  dreembs  unceasnly. 
I  blush  to  say  it  (for  humin  prisumpshn  never  surely 
igseeded  that  of  my  wickid  wickid  vishn).  One  night 
I  actially  dremt  that  Her  R.  H.  THE  PRINCESS  HAL- 
LIS  was  grown  up,  and  that  there  was  a  Cabinit  Coun- 
sel to  detummin  whether  her  &  was  to  be  bestoad  on 
me  or  the  PRINS  OF  SAX  MUFFINGHAUSEN-PUMPEN- 
STEIN,  a  young  Prooshn  or  Germing  zion  of  nobillaty. 
I  ask  umly  parding  for  this  hordacious  ideer. 

"  I  said,  in  my  fommer  remarx,  that  I  had  detum- 
mined  to  be  presented  to  the  notus  of  my  reveared 
Sovaring  in  a  melintary  coschewm.  The  Court-shoots 
in  which  Sivillians  attend  a  Levy  are  so  uncomming 
like  the — the — livries  (ojous  wud !  I  8  to  put  it 
down)  I  used  to  wear  befor  entering  sosiaty,  that  I 
couldn't  abide  the  notium  of  wearing  one.  My  de- 
turn  mination  was  fumly  fixt  to  apeer  as  a  Yominry 
Cavilry  Hoffiser,  in  the  galleant  youniform  of  the 
North  Diddlesex  Huzzas. 


44  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


"Has  that  redgmint  had  not  been  out  sins  1803, 
I  thought  myself  quite  hotherized  to  make  such  hal- 
terations  in  the  youniform  as  shuited  the  present  time 
and  my  metured  and  elygint  taste.  Pigtales  was  out 
of  the  question.  Tites  I  was  detummined  to  mintain. 
My  legg  is  praps  the  finist  pint  about  me,  and  I  was 
risolved  not  to  hide  it  under  a  booshle. 

"  I  phixt  on  scarlit  tites,  then,  imbridered  with 
goold  as  I  have  seen  WIDDICOMB  wear  them  at  HASH- 
LEYS  when  me  and  MARY  HANN  used  to  go  there. 
Ninety-six  guineas  worth  of  rich  goold  lace  and  cord 
did  I  have  myhandering  hall  hover  those  shoperb  in- 
agspressables. 

"  Yellow  marocky  Heshn  boots,  red  eels,  goold 
spurs  &  goold  tassles  as  bigg  as  belpulls. 

"  Jackit — French  gray  and  silver  oringe  fasings  & 
cuphs,  according  to  the  old  patn ;  belt,  green  and 
goold,  tight  round  my  pusn,  &  settin  hoff  the  cemetry 
of  my  figgar  not  disadvintajusly. 

"  A  huzza  paleese  of  pupple  velvit  &  sable  fir.  A 
sayber  of  Demaskus  steal,  and  a  sabertash  (in  which 
I  kep  my  Odiclone  and  imbridered  pocket  ankercher), 
kimpleat  my  acooterments,  which  without  vannaty, 
was,  I  flatter  myself,  uneak. 

"  But  the  crownding  triumph  was  my  hat.  I 
couldnt  wear  a  cock  At.  The  huzzahs  dont  use  'em. 
I  wouldnt  wear  the  hojous  old  brass  Elmett  &  Lep- 
pardskin.  I  choas  a  hat  which  is  dear  to  the  memry 


JEAMESS    DIARY.  45 


of  hevery  Brittn  ;  an  at  which  was  inwented  by  my 
Feeld  Marshle  and  adord  Prins  ;  an  At  which  vulgar 
prejidis  Sf  Joaking  has  in  vane  etempted  to  run  down. 
I  chose  the  HALBERT  AT.  I  didnt  tell  BAREACRES 
of  this  egsabishn  of  loilty,  intending  to  surprize  him. 
The  white  ploom  of  the  West  Diddlesex  Yomingry  I 
fixt  on  the  topp  of  this  Shacko,  where  it  spread  hout 
like  a  shaving-brush. 

"  You  may  be  sure  that  befor  the  fa  tie  day  ar- 
rived, I  didnt  niglect  to  practus  my  part  well ;  and 
had  sevral  rehustles,  as  they  say. 

"  This  was  the  way.  I  used  to  dress  myself  in 
my  full  togs.  I  made  FITZWARREN,  my  boddy  servnt? 
stand  at  the  dor,  and  figger  as  the  Lord  in  Waiting. 
I  put  MRS.  BLOKER,  my  laundress,  in  my  grand  harm 
chair  to  reprasent  the  horgust  pusn  of  my  Sovring — 
FREDERICK,  my  secknd  man,  standing  on  her  left,  in 
the  hattatude  of  an  illustrus  Prins  Consort.  Hall 
the  Candles  were  lighted.  '  Captain  de  la  Pluche, 
presented  by  Herl  Bareacres]  FITZWARREN,  my  man, 
igsclaimed,  as  adwancing  I  made  obasins  to  the 
Thrown.  Nealin  on  one  nee,  I  cast  a  glans  of  un- 
huttarable  loilty  towards  THE  BRITTISH  CROWND, 
then  stepping  gracefully  hup,  (my  Dimascus  Simiter 
would  git  betwigst  my  ligs.  in  so  doink,  which  at  fust 
was  wery  disagreeble) — rising  hup  grasefly,  I  say,  I 
flung  a  look  of  manly  but  respeckfl  hommitch  tords 
my  Prins,  and  then  ellygntly  ritreated  backards  out  of 


46  JEAMEs's    DIARY. 


the  Roil  Presents.  I  kep  my  4  suvnts  hup  for  4 
hours  at  this  gaym  the  night  befor  my  presntation. 
and  yet  I  was  the  fust  to  be  hup  with  the  sunrice. 
I  coodnt  sleep  that  night.  By  abowt  six  o'clock  in 
the  morning  I  was  drest  in  my  full  uniform — and  I 
didn  know  how  to  pass  the  interveaning  hours. 

"'My  Granmother  hasnt  seen  me  in  full  phigg,' 
says  I.  '  It  will  rejoice  that  pore  old  sole  to  behold 
one  of  her  race  so  suxesfle  in  life.'  Has  I  ave  read 
in  the  novvle  of  '  Kennleworth,'  that  the  Herl  goes 
down  in  Cort  dress  and  extoneshes  Hamy  Robsart,  I 
will  go  down  in  hall  my  splender  and  astownd  my  old 
washywoman  of  a  Granmother.  To  make  this  detum- 
mination;  to  border  my  Broom:  to  knock  down 
FREDERICK  the  groomb  for  delaying  to  bring  it ;  was 
with  me  the  wuck  of  a  momint.  The  nex  sor  as 
galliant  a  cavyleer  as  hever  rode  in  a  cabb,  skowering 
the  road  to  Healing. 

"  I  arrived  at  the  well-known  cottitch.  My  huncle 
was  habsent  with  the  cart;  but  the  dor  of  the  humble 
eboad  stood  hopen,  and  I  passed  through  the  little 
garding  where  the  close  was  hanging  out  to  dry.  Mv 
snowy  ploom  was  ableeged  to  bend  under  the  lowly 
porch,  as  I  hentered  the  apartmint. 

"  There  was  a  smell  of  tea  there — there's  always 
a  smell  of  tea  there — the  old  lady  was  at  her  Bohee 
as  usual.  I  advanced  tords  her  ;  but  ha  !  phansy  my 
extonnishment  when  I  sor  MARY  HANX  ! 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  47 

"  I  halmost  faintid  with  himotion.  '  Ho,  JEAMES  ! ' 
(she  has  said  to  me  subsquintly)  mortial  mann  never 
looked  so  bewtifle  as  you  did  when  you  arived  on  the 
day  of  the  Levy.  You  were  no  longer  mortial,  you 
were  diwine  ! ' 

"  R  !  what  little  Justas  the  Hartist  has  done  to 
my  mannly  etractions  in  the  groce  carriketure  he's 

made  of  me." 

*  ***** 

"  Nothing,  perhaps,  ever  created  so  great  a  sensa- 
shun  as  my  hentrance  to  St.  Jeames's,  on  the  day  of 
the  Levy.  The  Tuckish  Hambasdor  himself  was  not 
so  much  remarked  as  my  shuperb  turn  out. 

"  As  a  Millentary  man,  and  a  North  Diddlese^ 
Huzza,  I  was  resolved  to  come  to  the  ground  on  hoss- 
back.  I  had  Desparation  phigd  out  as  a  charger,  and 
got  4  Melentery  dresses  from  Ollywell  Street,  in 
which  I  drest  my  2  men  (FITZWARREN,  hout  of  livry, 
woodnt  stand  it),  and  2  fellers  from  RIMLES,  where 
my  bosses  stand  at  livry.  I  rode  up  St.  Jeames's 
Street,  with  my  4  Hadycongs — the  people  huzzaying 
— the  gals  waving  their  hankerchers,  as  if  I  were  a 
Foring  Prins — hall  the  winders  crowdid  to  see  me 
pass. 

"  The  guard  must  have  taken  me  for  a  Hempror 
at  least,  when  I  came,  for  the  drums  beat,  and  the 
guard  turned  out  and  seluted  me  with  presented 
harms. 


48  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


"  What  a  momink  of  triumtli  it  was  !  I  sprung 
rnyjestickly  from  Desperation.  I  gav  the  rains  to 
one  of  my  horderlies.  and,  salewting  the  crowd,  I  past 
into  the  presnts  of  my  Moss  GRACIOUS  Mrs." 


You,  peraps,  may  igspect  that  I  should  narrait  at 
at  lenth  the  suckmstanzas  of  my  hawjince  with  the 
BRITISH  CROWND.  But  I  am  not  one  who  would 
gratafy  imputtnint  curaiosaty.  Rispect  for  our 
reckonized  instatewtions  is  my  fust  quallaty.  I.  for 
one,  will  dye  rallying  round  my  Thrown. 

"  Suffise  it  to  say,  when  I  stood  in  the  Horgust 
Presnts, — when  I  sor  on  the  right  &  of  my  Him 
perial  Sovring  that 'Most  Gracious  Prins,  to  admire 
womb  has  been  the  chief  Objick  of  my  life,  my  busum 
was  seased  with  an  imotium  which  my  Penn  rifewses 
to  dixcribe — my  trembling  knees  halmost  rifused 
their  hoffis — I  reckleck  nothing  mor  until  I  was 
found  phainting  in  the  harms  of  the  LORD  CHAMBER- 
LING.  SIR.  ROBERT  PEAL  apnd  to  be  standing  by  (I 
knew  our  wuthy  PRIMMIER  by  Punch's  picturs  of 
lain,  igspecially  his  ligs),  and  he  was  conwussing  with 
a  man  of  womb  I  shall  say  nothink,  but  that  he  is  a 
Hero  of  1 00  fites.  and  hevery  file  he  Jit  he  one.  Nead 
I  say  that  I  elude  to  HARTHUR  OF  WELLINGTIXG  ? 
I  introjuiced  myself  to  these  Jents,  and  intend  to 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  49 


improve  the  equaintance,  and  peraps  ast  Guvment  for 
a  Barnetcy. 

"  But  there  was  another  pusn  womb  on  this 
droring-room  I  fust  had  the  inagspressable  dalite  to 
beold.  This  was  that  Star  of  fashing,  that  Sinecure 
of  neighbouring  i's,  as  MILTING  observes,  the  ecom- 
plisht  LADY  HANGELINA  THISTLEWOOD,  daughter  of 
my  exlent  frend,  JOHN  GEORGE  GODFREY  DE  BULLION 
THISTLEWOOD,  Earl  of  Bareacres,  Baron  Southdown, 
in  the  Peeridge  of  the  United  Kingdom,  Baron  Hag- 
gismore,  in  Scotland,  K.  T.,  Lord  Leftnant  of  the 
County  of  Diddlesex,  &c.,  &c.  This  young  lady  was 
with  her  Noble  Ma,  when  I  was  kinducted  tords  her. 
And  surely  never  lighted  on  this  hearth  a  more  de- 
lightfle  vishn.  In  that  gallixy  of  Bewty  the  LADY 
HANGET.INA  was  the  fairest  Star — in  that  reath  of 
Loveliness  the  sweetest  Rosebudd !  Pore  MARY 
HANN,  my  Art's  young  affeckshns  had  been  senterd 
on  thee ;  but  like  water  through  a  sivv,  her  immidge 
disapeared  in  a  momink,  and  left  me  intransd  in  the 
presnts  of  HANGELINA  ! 

LADY  BAREACRES  made  me  a  myjestick  bow — a 
grand  and  hawfle  pusnage  her  Ladyship  is,  with  a 
Homing  Nose,  and  an  enawmus  ploom  of  Hostridge 
phethers ;  the  fare  HANGELINA  smiled  with  a  sweet- 
ness perfickly  bewhildring,  and  said,  '  0,  MR.  DE  LA 
PLUCHE,  I'm  so  delighted  to  make  your  acquaint- 
ance !  I  have  often  heard  of  you.' 


50  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


" '  Who,'  says  I,  '  has  mentioned  my  insiggnif- 
ficknt  igsistance  to~the  fair  LADY  HANGELINA,  kel 
bonure  igstrame  poor  mwaw ;'  (for  you  see  I  've  not 
studdied  Pelham  for  nothink,  and  have  lunt  a  few 
French  phraces,  without  which  no  Gent  of  fashn 
speaks  now). 

" '  0,'  replies  my  lady,  '  it  was  Papa  first :  and 
then  a  very,  very  old  friend  of  yours.' 

" '  Whose  name  is,'  says  I,  pusht  on  by  my  stoopid 
curawsaty 

" '  HOGGINS — MARY  ANN  HOGGINS  ' — ansurred  my 
lady  (laffing  phit  to  splitt  her  little  sides).  '  She  is 
my  maid,  MR.  DE  LA  PLUCHE,  and  I  'm  afraid  you  are 
a  very  sad,  sad  person.' 

" '  A  mere  baggy  tell,'  says  I.  '  In  fommer  days  I 
was  equainted  with  that  young  woman ,  but  haltered 
suckmstancies  have  sepparated  us  for  hever,  and 
mong  cure  is  irratreevably  perd eiv  elsewhere.' 

" '  Do  tell  me  all  about  it.  Who  is  it  ?  When 
was  it?  We  are  all  dying  to  know.' 

"  '  Since  about  two  minnits,  and  the  Ladys  name 
begins  with  a  Ha,'  says  I,  looking  her  tendarly  in 
the  face,  and  conjring  up  hall  the  fassanations  of  my 
smile. 

" '  MR.  DE  LA  PLUCHE,'  here  said  a  gentleman  in 
whiskers  and  mistashes  standing  by,  '  hadn't  you  bet- 
ter take  your  spurs  out  of  the  COUNTESS  of  BARE- 
ACRES'  train  ?  ' — '  Never  mind  Mamma's  train '  (said 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  51 


LADY  HANGELINA)  ;  '  this  is  the  great  MR.  DE  LA 
PLUCHE,  who  is  to  make  all  our  fortunes — yours  too. 
MR.  DE  LA  PLUCHE,  let  me  present  you  to  CAPTAIN 
G-EORGE  SILVERTOP.' — The  Capting  bent  just  one 
jint  of  his  back  very  slitely ;  I  retund  his  stare  with 
equill  hottiness.  '  Go  and  see  for  LADY  BAREACRES' 
carridge,  CHARLES,'  says  his  Lordship ;  and  vispers 
to  me,  '  a  cousin  of  ours — a  poor  relation.'  So  I  took 
no  notis  of  the  feller  when  he  came  back,  nor  in  my 
subsquint  visits  to  Hill  Street,  where  it  seems  a 
knife  and  fork  was  laid  reglar  for  this  shabby  Cap- 
ting." 


"  Thusday  Night. — 0  HANGELINA,  HANGELINA, 
my  pashn  for  you  hogments  daily  !  I  've  bean  with 
her  two  the  Hopra.  I  sent  her  a  bewtifle  Camellia 
Jyponiky  from  Covn  Garding,  with  a  request  she 
would  wear  it  in  her  raving  Air.  I  woar  another  in 
my  butn-ole.  Evns,  what  was  my  sattusfackshn  as 
I  leant  hover  her  chair,  and  igsammined  the  house 
with  my  glas  ! 

"  She  was  as  sulky  and  silent  as  pawsble,  how- 
ever— would  scarcely  speek ;  although  I  kijoled  her 
with  a  thowsnd  little  plesntries.  I  spose  it  was  be- 
cause that  wulgar  raskle  SILVERTOP,  wood  stay  in 
the  box.  As  if  he  didn'  know  (Lady  B's  as  deaf  as 


52  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


a  poast  and  counts  for  nothink)  that  people  some- 
times like  a  tatytaty" 


"  Friday. — I  was  sleeples  all  night.  I  gave  went 
to  my  feelings  in  the  folloring  lines — there's  a  hair 
out  of  BALFE'S  Hopera  that  she's  fond  of.  I  edapted 
them  to  that  mellady. 

"  She  was  in  the  droring-room  alone  with  Lady 
B.  She  was  wobbling  at  the  pyanna  as  I  hentered. 
I  flung  the  convasation  upon  mewsick ;  said  I  sung 
myself  (I've  ad  lesns  lately  of  SIGNOR  TWANKY- 
DILLO)  ;  and,  on  her  rekwesting  me  to  faver  her  with 
somethink,  I  bust  out  with  my  poim  : 

"WHEN  MOONLIKE  OER  THE  HAZDRE  SEAS." 

"  "  When  moonlike  ore  the  hazure  seas 

In  soft  effulgence  swells, 
When  silver  jews  and  balmy  breaze 

Bend  down  the  Lily's  bells  ; 
When  calm  and  deap,  the  rosy  sleap 

Has  lapt  your  soul  in  dreems, 
R  HANGELIXE  !  R  lady  mine ! 

Dost  thou  remember  JEAMES  ? 

"  '  I  mark  thee  in  the  Marble  All, 

Where  Englands  loveliest  shine — 
I  say  the  fairest  of  them  hall 
Is  LADY  HAXGELINE. 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  53 


My  soul,  in  desolate  eclipse, 

With  recollection  teems — 
And  then  I  hask,  with  weeping  lips, 

Dost  thou  remember  JEAMES  ? 

"  « Away !  I  may  not  tell  thee  hall 

This  soughring  heart  endures — 
There  is  a  lonely  sperrit-call 

That  Sorrow  never  cures ; 
There  is  a  little,  little  Star, 

That  still  above  me  beams ; 
It  is  the  Star  of  Hope — but  ar  1 

Dost  thou  remember  JEAMES  ? ' 

"  When  I  came  to  the  last  words, '  Dost  thou  re- 
member JE-E-E-AMS,'  I  threw  such  an  igspresshn  of 
unuttrabble  tenderniss  into  the  shake  at  the  hend, 
that  HANGELINA  could  bare  it  no  more.  A  bust  of 
uncumtrollable  emotium  seized  her.'  She  put  her 
ankercher  to  her  face  and  left  the  room.  I  heard 
her  laffing  and  sobbing  histerickly  in  the  bedwor. 

"  0  HANGELINA — My  adord  one,  My  Arts  joy !" 


BAREACRES,  me,  the  ladies  of  the  famly,  with  their 
sweet,  SOUTHDOWN,  B's  eldest  son,  and  GEORGE  SIL- 
VERTOF,  the  shabby  Capting  (who  seames  to  git  leaf 
from  his  ridgment  whenhever  he  likes),  have  beene 


I 


54  JE AMES'S  DIARY. 


down  into  Diddlesex  for  a  few  days,  enjying  the  spawts 
of  the  feald  there. 

"  Never  having  done  much  in  the  gunning  line 
(since  when  a  hinnasent  boy,  me  and  JIM  Cox  used  to 
go  out  at  Healing,  and  shoot  sparrers  in  the  Edges 
with  a  pistle)  —  I  was  rey ther  dowtfle  as  to  my  suxes 
as  a  shot,  and  practusd  for  some  days  at  a  stoughd  bird 
in  a  shooting  gallery,  which  a  chap  histed  up  and  down 
with  a  string.  1  sugseaded  in  itting  the  hannimle  pret- 
ty well.  I  bought  AWKER'S  '  Shooting-Guide,'  two 
double  guns  at  MANTTNGS,  and  salected  from  the 
French  prints  of  fashn  the  most  gawjus  and  ellygant 
sporting  ebillyment.  A  lite  blue  velvet  and  goold 
cap,  woar  very  much  on  one  hear,  a  cravatt  of  yaller 
&  green  imbroidered  satting,  a  weskit  of  the  McGRiG- 
GER  plaid,  &  a  jacket  of  the  McWniRTER  tartn  (with 
large  motherapurl  butns,  engraved  with  coaches  & 
osses,  and  spawting  subjix),  high  leather  gayters,  and 
marocky  shooting  shoes,  was  the  simple  hellymence  of 
my  costewm,  and  I  flatter  myself  set  hoff  my  figger  in 
rayther  a  fayverable  way.  I  took  down  none  of  my 
own  pusnal  istablishmint  excep  FITZWARREN.  my  hone 
mann,  and  my  grooms,  with  Desparation  and  my 
curricle  osses,  and  the  Fourgong  containing  my  dress- 
ing-case and  close. 

"  I  was  heverywhere  introjuiced  in  the  county  as 
the  great  Railroad  Cappitlist,  who  was  to  make  Did- 
dlesex the  most  prawsperous  districk  of  the  hempire. 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  55 


The  squires  prest  forrards  to  welcome  the  new  comer 
amongst  'em  ;  and  we  had  a  Hagricultral  Meating  of 
the  Bareacres  tenantry,  where  I  made  a  speech  dror- 
ing  tears  from  hevery  i.  It  was  in  compliment  to  a 
layborer  who  had  brought  up  sixteen  children,  and 
lived  sixty  years  on  the  istate  on  seven  bobb  a  week. 
I  am  not  prowd,  though  I  know  my  station.  I  shook 
hands  with  that  mann  in  lavinder  kidd  gloves.  I  told 
him  that  the  purshuit  of  hagrieulture  was  the  noblist 
hockupations  of  humannaty ;  I  spoke  of  the  yoming 
of  Hengland,  who  (under  the  command  of  my  hancis- 
ters)  had  conquerd  at  Hadjincourt  &  Cressy ;  and  I 
gave  him  a  pair  of  new  velveteen  inagspressables, 
with  two  and  six  in  each  pocket,  as  a  reward  for  three 
score  years  of  labor.  FITZWARREN,  my  man,  brought 
them  forrards  on  a  satting  cushing.  Has  I  sat  down 
defning  chears  seluted  the  horator  ;  the  band  struck 
up  'The  Good  Old  English  Gentleman.'  I  looked  to 
the  ladies  galry  ;  my  HANGELINA  waived  her  ankash- 
er  and  kissed  her  & ;  and  I  sor  in  the  distance  that 
pore  MAR.Y  HANN  efected  evidently  to  tears  by  my  el- 
laquints. 


"  What  an  adwance  that  gal  as  made  since  she's 
been  in  LADY  HANGELINA'S  company !  Sins  she 
wears  her  young  lady's  igsploded  gownds  and  retired 
caps  and  ribbings,  there's  an  ellygance  abowt  her 


. 

56  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 

which  is  puffickly  admarable ;  and  which,  haddid  to  her 
own  natral  bewty  &  sweetniss,  creates  in  my  boozum 
sorting  sensatiums  *  *  *  ghor !  I  mustn't  give 
way  to  fealinx  unwuthy  of  a  member  of  the  aristoxy. 
What  can  she  be  to  me  but  a  mear  recklection,  a 
vishn  of  former  ears? 

"  I'm  blest  if  I  didn  mistake  her  for  HANGELINA  her- 
self yesterday.  I  met  her  in  the  grand  Collydore  of 
Bareacres  Castle.  I  sor  a  lady  in  a  melumcolly  hat- 
tatude  gacing  outawinder  at  the  setting  sun,  which 
was  eluminating  the  fair  parx  and  gardings  of  the  han- 
cient  demean. 

" '  Bewchus  LADY  HANGELINA,'  says  I-  -'A  penny 
for  your  Ladyship's  thoughts/  says  I. 

"  '  Ho  JEAMES  !  Ho,  MR.  DE  LA  PLUCHE  !'  hanser- 
ed  a  well-known  vice,  with  a  haxnt  of  sadnis  which 
went  to  my  art.  '  You  know  what  my  thoughts  are, 
well  enough.  I  was  thinking  of  happy,  happy  old 
times,  when  both  of  us  were  poo — poo — oor,'  says 
MARY  HANN,  busting  out  in  a  phit  of  crying,  a 
thing  I  can't  ebide.  I  took  her  &  and  tried  to  cumft 
her :  I  pinted  out  the  diffrens  of  our  sitawashuns ; 
igsplained  to  her  that  proppaty  has  its  jewties  as 
well  as  its  previletches,  and  that  my  juty  clearly  was 
to  marry  into  a  noble  farnly.  I  kep  on  talking  to 
her  (she  sobbing  and  going  hon  hall  the  time)  till 
LADY  HANGELINA  herself  came  up — '  The  real  Siming 
Fewer,'  as  they  say  in  the  play. 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  57 


"  There  they  stood  together — them  two  young  wo- 
men. I  don't  know  which  is  the  ansamest.  I  coodnt 
help  comparing  them ;  and  I  coodnt  help  comparing 
myself  to  a  certing  Hannimle  I've  read  of,  that  found 
it  difficklt  to  make  a  choice  betwigst  2  Bundles  of  A." 


"  That  ungrateful  beest  FITZWARREN — my  oan 
man — a  feller  I've  maid  a  fortune  for — a  feller  I  give 
100  Ib.  per  hannum  to ! — a  low  bred  W ally dysh amber  ! 
He  must  be  thinking  of  falling  in  love  too !  and 
treating  me  to  his  imperence. 

"  He's  a  great  big  athlatic  feller — six  foot  i,  with 
a  pair  of  black  whiskers  like  air-brushes  —  with 
a  look  of  a  Colonel  in  the  Harmy — a  dangerous 
pawm pus-spoken  raskle  I  warrunt  you.  I  was  coming 
ome  from  shuiting  this  hafternoon — and  passing 
through  LADY  HANGELINAS  flour-garding,  who  should 
I  see  in  the  surnmerouse,  but  MARY  HANN  pretending 
to  em  an  ankysher  and  MR.  FITZWARREN  paying  his 
cort  to  her. 

" '  You  may  as  well  have  me,  MARY  HANN,'  says 
he.  '  I've  saved  money.  We'll  take  a  public  house 
and  I'll  make  a  lady  of  you.  I'm  not  a  purse-proud 
ungrateful  fellow  like  JEAMES — who's  such  a  snob 
('  such  A  SNOBB'  was  his  very  words  !)  that  I'm  asham- 
ed to  wait  on  him — who's  the  laughing  stock  of  all 
the  gentry  and  the  housekeeper's  room  too — try  a 
I 


58  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


man]  says  he — '  don't  be  taking  onabout  such  a  hum- 
bug as  JEAMES.' 

"  Here  young  JOE  the  'keaper's  sun,  who  was  car- 
rying my  bagg,  bust  out  a  laffing — thereby  causing 
MR.  FITZWARREN  to  turn  round  and  intarupt  this 
polite  convasation. 

"  I  was  in  such  a  rayge.  '  Quit  the  building,  MARY 
HANN,'  says  I  to  the  young  woman — '  and  you,  MR. 
FITZWARREN,  have  the  goodness  to  remain.' 

"  '  I  give  you  warning,'  roars  he,  looking  black,  blue, 
yaller — all  the  colours  of  the  ranebo. 

" '  Take  hoff  your  coat,  you  imperent,  hungrateful 
scoundrl,'  says  I. 

"'  It's  not  your  livery,'  says  he. 

"'  Peraps'you'll  understand  me,  when  I  take  off  my 

own,'  says  I,  unbuttoning   the  motherapurls  of  the 

MACWHIRTER  tartn.     '  Take  my  jackit,  JOE,'  says  I 

to  the  boy, — and  put  myself  in  a   hattatude   about 

which  there  was  no  mistayk." 

******** 

"  He's  2  stone  heavier  than  me — and  knows  the 
use  of  his  ands  as  well  as  most  men ;  but  in  a  fite, 
blood's  evert/think  ;  the  Snobb  can't  stand  before  the 
gentleman  ;  and  I  should  have  killed  him,  I've  little 
doubt,  but  they  came  up  and  stopt  the  fite  betwigst  us 
before  we'd  had  more  than  2  rounds. 

"I  punisht  the  raskle  tremenjusly  in  that  time, 
though  ;  and  I'm  writing  this  in  my  own  sittn-room, 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  ,  59 


not  being  able  to  come  down  to  dinner  on  account  of 
a  black  eye  I've  got,  which  is  sweld  up  and  disfiggers 
me  dredfl." 


On  acount  of  the  hoffle  black  i  which  I  reseaved 
in  my  rangcounter  with  the  hinfimus  FITZWARREN,  I 
kep  my  roomb  for  sevral  days,  with  the  rose-coloured 
curtings  of  the  apartmint  closed,  so  as  to  form  an 
agreeble  twilike  ;  and  a  light-bloo  satting  shayd  over 
the  injard  pheacher.  My  woons  was  thus  made  to 
become  me  as  much  as  pawsable  ;  and  (has  the  Poick 
well  observs  '  Nun  but  the  Brayv  desuvs  the  Fare') 
I  cumsoled  myself  in  the  sasiaty  of  the  ladies  for  my 
tempory  disfiggarment. 

"It  was  MARY  HANN  who  summind  the  House 
and  put  an  end  to  my  phistycoughs  with  FITZ- 
WARREN. I  licked  him  and  bare  him  no  mallis :  but 
of  corse  I  dismist  the  imperent  scoundrill  from  my 
suvvis,  apinting  ADOLPHUS,  my  page,  to  his  post  of 
confidenshle  Valley. 

"  MARY  HANN  and  her  young  and  lovely  Mrs. 
kep  paying  me  continyoul  visits  during  my  retire- 
mint.  LADY  HANGELINA  was  halways  sending  me 
messidges  by  her :  while  my  exlent  friend,  LADY 
BAREACRES  (on  the  contry)  was  always  sending  me 
toakns  of  affeckshn  by  HANGELINA.  Now  it  was  a 
cooling  hi-lotium,  inwented  by  herself,  that  her  Lady- 


60  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


ship  would  perscribe — then,  agin,  it  would  be  a  booky 
of  flowers  (my  favrit  polly  hanthuses,  pellagoniums, 
and  jyponikys),  which  none  but  the  fair  &s  of  HAN- 
GELINA  could  dispose  about  the  chamber  of  the  hin- 
vyleed.  Ho  !  those  dear  mothers !  when  they  wish 
to  find  a  chans  for  a  galliant  young  feller,  or  to 
ixtablish  their  dear  gals  in  life,  what  awpertunities 
they  will  give  a  man  !  You'd  have  phansied  I  was 
so  hill  (on  account  of  my  black  hi),  that  I  couldut 
live  exsep  upon  chicking  and  spoon-meat,  and  jellies, 
and  blemonges,  and  that  I  couldnt  eat  the  latter 
dellixies  (which  I  ebomminate  onternoo,  prefurring 
a  cut  of  beef  or  muttn  to  hall  the  kickpshaws  of 
France),  unless  HANGELINA  brought  them.  I  et  'em, 
and  sacrafised  myself  for  her  dear  sayk. 

"  I  may  stayt  here  that  in  privit  convasations 
with  old  LORD  B.  and  his  son,  I  had  mayd  my  pro- 
poasls  for  HANGELINA,  and  was  axepted,  and  hoped 
soon  to  be  made  the  appiest  gent  in  Hengland. 

" '  You  must  break  the  matter  gently  to  her,'  said 
her  hexlent  father.  '  You  have  my  warmest  wishes, 
my  dear  MR.  DE  LA  PLUCHE,  and  those  of  my  LADY 
BAREACRES  :  but  I  am  not — not  quite  certain  about 
LADY  ANGELINA'S  feelings.  Girls  are  wild  and  ro- 
mantic. They  do  not  see  the  necessity  of  prudent 
establishments,  and  I  have  never  yet  been  able  to 
make  ANGELINA  understand  the  embarrassments  of 
her  family.  These  silly  creatures  prate  about  love 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  61 


and  a  cottage,  and  despise  advantages  which  wiser 
heads  than  theirs  know  how  to  estimate.' 

" '  Do  you  mean  that  she  aint  fassanated  by  me  ? ' 
says  I,  busting  out  at  this  outrayjus  ideer. 

"  '  She  will  be,  my  dear  sir.  You  have  already 
pleased  her, — your  admirable  manners  must  succeed 
in  captivating  her,  and  a  fond  father's  wishes  will  be 
crowned  on  the  day  in  which'you  enter  our  family.' 

" '  Recklect,  gents,'  says  I  to  the  2  lords, — '  a  bar- 
ging's  a  barging — I'll  pay  hoff  SOUTHDOWN'S  Jews, 
when  I'm  his  brother — as  a  straynger — (this  I  said 
in  a  sarcastickle  toan) — I  wouldnt  take  such  a  libbaty. 
When  I'm  your  suninlor  I'll  treble  the  valyou  of  your 
estayt.  I'll  make  your  incumbrinces  as  right  as  a 
trivit,  and  restor  the  noble  ouse  of  Bareacres  to  its 
herly  splender.  But  a  pig  in  a  poak  is  not  the  way 
of  transacting  bisniss  imployed  by  JEAMES  DE  LA 
PLUCHE,  Esquire.' 

"  And  I  had  a  right  to  speak  in  this  way.  I  was 
one  of  the  greatest  scrip-holders  in  Hengland ;  and 
calclated  on  a  kilossle  fortune.  All  my  shares  was 
rising  immence.  Every  poast  brot  me  noose  that  I 
was  sevral  thowsnds  richer  than  the  day  befor.  I 
was  detummind  not  to  reerlize  till  the  proper  time, 
and  then  to  buy  istates  ;  to  found  a  new  famly  of 
DELAPLUCHES,  and  to  alie  myself  with  the  aristoxy 
of  my  country. 

"  These  pints  I  reprasented  to  pore  MARY  HANN 


62  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


hover  and  hover  agin.  '  If  you'd  been  LADY  HAN- 
GELINA,  my  dear  gal,'  says  I, '  I  would  have  married 
you  :  and  why  don't  I  ?  Because  my  dooty  prewents 
me.  I'm  a  marter  to  dooty ;  and  you,  my  pore  gal, 
must  cumsole  yorself  with  that  ideer.' 

"  There  seamd  to  be  a  consperracy,  too,  between 
that  SILVERTOP  and  LADY  HANGELINA  to  drive  me  to 
the  same  pint.  '  What  a  plucky  fellow  you  were, 
PLTJCHE,'  says  he  (he  was  rayther  more  familliar  than 
I  liked),  '  in  your  fight  with  FITZWARREN  ! — to  engage 
a  man  of  twice  your  strength  and  science,  though  you 
were  sure  to  be  beaten  (this  is  an  etroashous  folsood : 
I  should  have  finnisht  FITZ  in  10  minnits),  for  the 
sake  of  poor  MARY  HANN  !  That's  a  generous  fellow. 
I  like  to  see  a  man  risen  to  eminence  like  you,  hav- 
ing his  heart  in  the  right  place.  When  is  to  be  the 
marriage,  my  boy  ?  ' 

" '  CAPTING  S.,'  says  I,  '  my  marridge  consunns 
your  most  umble  servnt  a  precious  sight  more  than 
you ; ' — and  I  gev  him  to  understand  I  didn't  want 
him  to  put  in  his  ore — I  wasn't  afrayd  of  his  whisk- 
ers, I  prommis  you,  Capting  as  he  was.  I'm  a 
British  Lion,  I  am  ;  as  brayv  as  BONYPERT.  HAXNI- 
BLE,  or  HOLIVER  CuuMMLE.  and  would  face  bagnits 
as  well  as  any  Evy  drigoon  of  'em  all. 

"  LADY  HANGELINA,  too,  igspawstulated  in  her 
hartfl  way.  '  MR  DE  LA  PLUCHE  (seshee)  why,  why 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  63 


press  this  point  ?  You  can't  suppose  that  you  will 
be  happy  with  a  person  like  me  ?  ' 

"  '  I  adoar  you,  charming  gal ! '  says  I,  '  Never, 
never  go  to  say  any  such  thing.' 

" '  You  adored  MARY  ANN  first ; '  answers  her 
Ladyship  ;  '  you  can't  keep  your  eyes  off  her  now. 
If  any  man  courts  her  you  grow  so  jealous  that  you 
begin  beating  him.  You  will  break  the  girl's  heart 
if  you  don't  marry  her,  and  perhaps  some  one  else's — 
but  you  don't  mind  that.'1 

" '  Break  yours,  you  adoarible  creature  !  I'd  die 
first !  And  as  for  MARY  HANN,  she  will  git  over  it ; 
people's  arts  aint  broakn  so  easy.  Once  for  all, 
suckmstances  is  changed  betwigst  me  and  er.  It's 
a  pang  to  part  with  her  (says  I  my  fine  hi's  filling 
with  tears),  but  part  from  her  I  must.' 

"  It  was  curius  to  remark  abowt  that  singlar  gal, 
LADY  HANGELINA,  that  melumcolly  as  she  was  when 
she  was  talking  to  me,  and  ever  so  disml — yet  she 
kep  on  lafnng  every  minute  like  the  juice  and  all. 

" '  What  a  sacrifice  ! '  says  she,  '  it's  like  NAPO- 
LEON giving  up  JOSEPHINE.  What  anguish  it  must 
cause  to  your  susceptible  heart ! ' 

"  '  It  does,'  says  I — '  Hagnies  !  '  (another  laff.) 

"  '  And  if — if  I  don't  accept  you — you  will  invade 
the  States  of  the  Emperor,  my  Papa  and  I  am  to  be 
made  the  sacrifice  and  the  occasion  of  peace  between 
you ! ' 


64  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


" '  I  don't  know  what  you're  eluding  to  about 
JOSEYFEEN  and  Hemperors  your  Pas  ;  but  I  know 
that  your  Pa's  estate  is  over  hedaneers  morgidged  ; 
that  if  some  one  don't  elp  him,  he's  no  better  than  an 
old  pawper :  that  he  owes  me  a  lot  of  money  ;  and 
that  I'm  the  man  that  can  sell  him  up  hoss  &  foot  j 
or  set  him  up  agen — that's  what  I  know,  LADY  HAN- 
GELINA,'  says  I,  with  a  hair  as  much  as  to  say, '  Put 
that  in  your  ladyship's  pipe,  and  smoke  it.' 

"  And  so  I  left  her,  and  nex  day  a  serting  fashna- 
ble  paper  enounced — 

" '  MARRIAGE  m  HIGH  LIFE. — We  hear  that  a 
matrimonial  union  is  on  the  tapis  between  a  gentle- 
man who  has  made  a  colossal  fortune  in  the  Railway 
World,  and  the  only  daughter  of  a  noble  earl,  whose 
estates  are  situated  in  D — ddles — x.  An  early  day 
is  fixed  for  this  interesting  event.' " 


"  CONTRY  to  my  expigtations  (but  when  or  ow 
can  we  reckn  upon  the  fealinx  of  wimming  ?)  MARY 
HANN  didn't  seem  to  be  much  efected  by  the  hideer  of 
my  marridge  with  HANGELINAR.  I  was  rayther  dis- 
apinted  peraps  that  the  fickle  young  gal  reckumsiled 
herself  so  easy  to  giving  me  hup,  for  we  Gents  are 
creechers  of  vanaty  after  all,  as  well  as  those  of  the 
hopsit  seeks  :  &  betwigst  you  &  me  there  was  mo- 
minx,  when  I  almost  whisht  that  I  'd  been  borne  a 


JEAMES's    DIARY.  05 


Myomnridn  or  Turk,  when  the  Lor  would  have  per- 
mitted me  to  marry  both  these  sweet  beinx,  where- 
has  I  was  now  condemd  to  be  appy  with  ony  one. 

"  Meanwild  every-think  went  on  very  agreeble  be- 
twigst  me  and  my  defianced  bride.  When  we  came 
back  to  town  I  kemishnd  MR.  SHOWERY  the  great 
Hoctionear  to  look  out  for  a  town  manshing  sootable 
for  a  gent  of  my  quality.  I  got  from  the  Erald 
Horns  (not  the  Mawning  Erald — no  no,  I  'm  not 
such  a  Mough  as  to  go  there  for  ackrit  infamation) 
an  account  of  my  famly,  my  harms  &  pedigry. 

"  I  bordered  in  Long  Hacre,  three  splendid  equi- 
pidges,  on  which  my  arms  and  my  adord  wife's  was 
drawn  &  quartered  ;  and  I  got  portricks  of  me  and 
her  paynted  by  the  sellabrated  MR.  SHALLOON,  being 
resolved  to  be  the  gentleman  in  all  things,  and  know- 
ing that  my  character  as  a  man  of  fashn  wasn't  coni- 
pleat  unless  I  sat  to  that  distinguished  Hartist.  My 
likenis  I  presented  to  HANGELINA.  Its  not  consid- 
ered flattering — here  it  is — and  though  she  parted 
with  it,  as  you  will  hear,  mighty  willingly,  there  's 
one  young  lady  (a  thousand  times  handsomer)  that 
values  it  as  the  happle  of  her  hi." 

"Would  any  man  beleave  that  this  picture  was 
soald  at  my  sale  for  about  a  twenty-fifth  part  of  what 
it  cost  ?  It  was  bought  in  by  MARYHANN,  though : — 
'  0  dear  JEAMES,'  she  says  often,  (kissing  of  it  &  press- 
ing it  to  her  art)  '  it  isn't  \  ansum  enough  for  you,  and 


66  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


hasn't  got  your  angellick  smile  and  the  igspreshun  of 
your  dear  dear  i's.'  " 

"  HANGELINA'S  pictur  was  kindly  presented  to  me 
by  Countess  B.,  her  mamma,  though  of  coarse,  I  paid 
for  it.  It  was  engraved  for  the  Book  of  Bewty  this 
year :  and  here  is  a  proof  of  the  etching : — 

"  With  such  a  perfusion  of  ringlits  I  should  scarcely 
have  known  her — but  the  ands,  feat,  and  i's,  is  very 
like.  She  was  painted  in  a  gitar  supposed  to  be  sing- 
ing one  of  my  little  melladies ;  and  her  brother 
SOUTHDOWN,  who  is  one  of  the  New  England  poits, 
wrote  the  follering  stanzys  about  her  : — 

LINES  UPON  MY  SISTER'S  PORTRAIT. 

BT    THE    LORD    SOUTHDOWN. 

The  Castle  towers  of  Bareacres  are  fair  upon  the  lea, 

Where  the  cliffs  of  bonny  Diddlesex  rise  up  from  out  the  sea: 

I  stood  upon  the  donjon  keep  and  riew'd  the  country  o'er, 

I  saw  the  lands  of  Bareacres  for  fifty  miles  or  more. 

I  stood  upon  the  donjon  keep — it  is  a  sacred  place, — 

Where  floated  for  eight  hundred  years  the  banner  of  my  race ; 

Argent,  a  dexter  sinople,  and  gules  an  azure  field, 

There  ne'er  was  nobler  cognizance  on  knightly  warrior's  shield. 

The  first  time  England  saw  the  shield  'twas  round  a  Norman 

neck, 

On  board  a  ship  from  Valery,  KING  WILLIAM  was  on  deck. 
A  Norman  lance  the  colors  wore,  in  Basting's  fatal  fray — 
ST.  WILLIBALD  for  Bareacres !  'twas  double  gules  that  day ! 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  67 

0  Heaven  and  sweet  ST.  WILLIBALD  I  in  may  a  battle  since 
A  loyal-hearted  BAREACRES  has  ridden  by  his  Prince ! 
At  Acre  with  PLANTAGENET,  with  EDWARD  at  Poitiers, 
The  pennon  of  the  BAREACRES  was  foremost  on  the  spears ! 

'Twos  pleasant  in  the  battle-shock  to  hear  our  war-cry  ringing  : 
O !  grant  me,  sweet  SAINT  WILLIBALD,  to  listen  to  such  singing ! 
Three  hundred  steel-clad  gentlemen,  we  drove  the  foe  before  us, 
And  thirty  score  of  British  bows  kept  twanging  to  the  chorus ! 
O  knights,  my  noble  ancestors !  and  shall  I  never  hear 
SAINT  WILLIBALD  for  Bareacres  through  battle  ringing  clear  ? 
I'd  cut  me  off  this  strong  right  hand  a  single  hour  to  ride, 
And  strike  a  blow  for  Bareacres,  my  fathers,  at  your  side ! 

Dash  down,  dash  down,  yon  Mandolin,  beloved  sister  mine ! 
Those  blushing  lips  may  never  sing  the  glories  of  our  line : 
Our  ancient  castles  echo  to  the  clumsy  feet  of  churls, 
The  spinning  Jenny  houses  in  the  mansion  of  our  Earls. 
Sing  not,  sing  not>  my  ANGELINE  !    in  days  so  base  and  vile, 
'Twere  sinful  to  be  happy,    'twere  sacrilege  to  smile. 
I'll  hie  me  to  my  lonely  hall,  and  by  its  cheerless  hob 
I'll  muse  on  other  days,  and  wish — and  wish  I  were — A  SNOB. 

"  All  young  Hengland,  I'm  told,  considers  the  po- 
im  bewtifle.  They're  always  writing  about  battleaxis 
and  shivvlery,  these  young  chaps;  but  the  ideer  of 
SOUTHDOWN  in  a  shoot  of  arrner,  and  his  cuttin  hoff 
his  '  strong  right  hand,'  is  rayther  too  good  ;  the  fel- 
ler is  about  5  fit  hi, — as  ricketty  as  a  babby,  with  a 
vaist  like  a  gal, — and  though  he  may  have  the  art 
and  curridge  of  a  Bengal  tyger,  I'd  back  my  smallest 


68  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


cab-boy   to  lick  him, — that  is,  if  I  ad   a.   cab-boy. 
But  io !  my  cab-days  is  over." 


"  Be  still  my  hagnizing  Art !  I  now  am  about  to 
hunfoald  the  dark  payges  of  the  Istry  of  my  life  !  " 

"  My  frends  !  you've  seen  me  ither2  in  the  full 
kerear  of  Fortn,  prawsprus  but  not  hover  prowd  of 
my  prawsperraty ;  not  dizzy  though  mounted  on  the 
haypix  of  Good  Luck — feasting  hall  the  great  (like 
the  Good  Old  Henglish  Gent  in  the  song,  which  he 
has  been  my  moddle  and  igsample  through  life)  but 
not  forgitting  the  small — No,  my  beayviour  to  my 
granmother  at  Healing  shows  that.  I  bot  her  a  new 
donkey  cart  (what  the  French  call  a  cart-blansh)  and 
a  handsome  set  of  peggs  for  anging  up  her  linning, 
and  treated  Huncle  Jim  to  a  new  shoot  of  close,  which 
he  ordered  in  St.  Jeames's  Street,  much  to  the  es- 
tonishment  of  my  Snyder  there,  namely  an  ollif-green 
velvyteen  jackit  and  smalclose,  and  a  crimsn  plush 
weskoat  with  glas-buttns.  These  pints  of  genarawsaty 
in  my  disposishn  I  never  should  have  eluded  to,  but 
to  show  that  I  am  naturally  of  a  noble  sort;  and 
have  that  kind  of  galliant  carridge  which  is  equel  to 
either  good  or  bad  forting. 

"  What  was  the  substns  of  my  last  chapter  1  In 
that  every  think  was  prepay  red  for  my  marridge — the 
consent  of  the  parents  of  my  HANGELINA  was  gaynd. 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  69 


the  lovely  gal  herself  was  ready  (as  I  thought)  to  be 
led  to  Himing's  halter — the  trooso  was  hordered — the 
wedding  dressis  were  being  phitted  hon — a  weddin- 
kake  weighing  half  a  tunn  was  a  gettn  reddy  by  ME- 
SURS  GUNTER,  of  Buckley-square  ;  there  was  such  an 
account  for  Shantilly  and  Honiton  laces  as  would 
have  staggerd  hennybody  (I  know  they  did  the  Com- 
missioner when  I  came  hup  for  my  Stiffikit)  and  has 
for  Injar-shawls  I  bawt  a  dozen  sich  fine  ones  as  never 
was  given  away — no  not  by  His  Iness  the  Injan  Prins 
JUGGERNAUT  TYGORE.  The  juils  (a  pearl  and  dimind 
shoot)  were  from  the  extablishmint  of  MYSURS  STORR 
AND  MORTIMER.  The  honey-moon  I  intended  to  pass 
in  a  continentle  excussion,  and  was  in  treaty  for  the 
ouse  at  Halberd-gate  (hopsit  MR.  HUDSON'S)  as  my 
town-house.  I  waited  to  cumclude  the  putchis  untie 
the  Share-Markit  which  was  rayther  deprest  (oing  I 
think  not  so  much  to  the  atax  of  the  misrabble  Times, 
as  to  the  prodidjus  flams  of  the  Morning  Erald)  was 
restored  to  its  elthy  toan.  I  wasn't  goin  to  part  with 
scrip  which  was  20  primmium  at  2  or  3 ;  and  bein 
confidnt  that  the  Markit  would  rally,  had  bought  very 
largely  for  the  two  or  three  new  accounts. 

"  This  will  explane  to  those  unfortnight  traydsmen 
to  womb  I  gayv  orders  for  a  large  igstent  ow  it  was 
that  I  couldn't  pay  their  accounts.  Jam  the  soal 
of  onour — but  no  gent  can  pay  when  he  has  no  money  ; 
— it's  not  my  fault  if  that  old  screw  L'ADY  BAREACRES 


70  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


cabbidged  three  hundred  yards  of  lace,  and  kep  back 
4  of  the  biggest  diminds  and  seven  of  the  largist 
Injar  Shawls — it's  not  my  fault  if  the  tradespeople 
didn  git  their  goods  back,  and  that  LADY  B.  declared 
they  were  lost.  I  began  the  world  afresh  with  the 
close  on  my  back,  and  thirteen  and  six  in  money, 
concealing  nothink,  giving  up  heverythink,  Onist  and 
undismayed,  and  though  beat,  with  pluck  in  me  still, 
and  ready  to  begin  agin. 

"  Well — it  was  the  day  before  that  apinted  for 
my  Unium.  The  Ringdove  steamer  was  lying  at 
Dover  ready  to  carry  us  hoff.  The  Bridle  apartmince 
had  been  bordered  at  Salt  Hill,  and  subsquintly  at 
Balong  sur  Mare — the  very  table  cloth  was  laid  for 
the  weddn  brexfst  in  111  Street,  and  the  Bride's  Right 
Reverend  Huncle,  the  LORD  BISHOP  OF  BULLOCK- 
SMITHY,  had  arrived  to  sellabrayt  our  unium.  All 
the  papers  were  full  of  it.  Crowds  of  the  fashnable 
world  went  to  see  the  trooso  and  admire  the  Car- 
ridges  in  Long  Hacre.  Our  travleng  charrat  (light 
bloo  lined  with  pink  satting,  and  vermillium  and  goold 
weals)  was  the  hadmaration  of  all  for  quiet  ellygns. 
We  were  to  travel  only  4,  viz.,  me,  my  lady,  my 
vally,  and  MARY  HANN  as  famdyshamber  to  my  H AN- 
GELINA. Far  from  oposing  our  match,  this  worthy 
gal  had  quite  givn  into  it  of  late,  and  laught  and 
joakt,  and  enjoyd  our  plans  for  the  fewter  igseed- 
inkly. 


JEAMES's    DIARY.  71 


"  I'd  left  my  lovely  Bride  very  gay  the  night  be- 
fore— aving  a  multachewd  of  bisniss  on,  and  Stock- 
brokers &  bankers'  accounts  to  settle :  atsettrey  at- 
settrey.  It  was  layt  befor  I  got  these  in  border :  my 
sleap  was  feavrish,  as  most  mens  is  when  they  are 
going  to  be  marrid  or  to  be  hanged.  I  took  my 
chocklit  in  bed  about  one  :  tride  on  my  wedding  close, 
and  found  as  ushle  that  they  became  me  exeedingly. 

"  One  thing  distubbed  my  mind — two  weskts  had 
been  sent  home.  A  blush-white  satting  and  gold, 
and  a  kinary  coloured  tabbinet  imbridered  in  silver  ; 
— which  should  I  wear  on  the  hospicious  day  ?  This 
hadgitated  and  perplext  me  a  good  deal.  I  detum- 
mined  to  go  down  to  Hill  Street  and  cuinsult  the 
Lady  whose  wishis  were  henceforth  to  be  my  hallin- 
all ;  and  wear  whichever  she  phixt  on. 

"  There  was  a  great  bussel  and  distubbans  in  the 
Hall  in  111  Street ;  which  I  etribyouted  to  the 
eproaching  event.  The  old  porter  stared  most  un- 
common when  I  kem  in —  the  footman  who  was  to 
enounce  me  laft  I  thought — I  was  going  up  stairs — 

" '  Her  ladyship's  not — not  at  bomej  says  the 
man ;  '  and  my  lady's  hill  in  bed.' 

"  '  Git  lunch,'  says  I,  '  I'll  wait  till  Lady  HANGE- 
LINA  returns.' 

"  At  this  the  feller  loox  at  me  for  a  momint  with 
his  cheex  blown  out  like  a  bladder,  and  then  busts 
out  in  a  reglar  guffau !  the  porter  jined  in  it.  the 


72  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


impident  old  raskle ;  and  Thomas  says,  slapping  his 
and  on  his  thy,  without  the  least  respect — '  I  say, 
Huffy,  old  boy !  ISN'T  this  a  good  un  ?  ' 

"  Wadyermean,  you  infunnle  scoundrel,"  says  I, 
"  hollaring  and  laffing  at  me  ?  " 

" '  0  here's  Miss  MARY  HANN  coming  up,'  says 
Thomas, '  ask  her'' — and  indeed  there  came  my  little 
MARY  HANN  tripping  down  the  stairs — her  &s  in  her 
pockits  ;  and  when  she  saw  me  she  began  to  blush  & 
look  hod  &  then  to  grin  too. 

"'In  the  name  of  Imperence,  says  I,  rushing  on 
Thomas,  and  collaring  him  fit  to  throttle  him — '  no 
raskle  of  a  flunky  shall  insult  mej  and  I  sent  him 
staggerin  up  aginst  the  porter,  and  both  of  'em  into 
the  hall-chair  with  a  flopp — when  MARY  HANN,  jump- 
ing down,  says,  '  0  James  !  0  Mr.  Plush  !  read  this' 
— and  she  pulled  out  a  billy  doo. 

"  I  reckanized  the  and-writing  of  HANGELINA. 


"  Deseatful  H ANGELINA'S  billy  ran  as  follows  — 

*' '  I  had  all  along  hoped  that  you  would  have  re- 
linquished pretensions  which  you  must  have  seen 
were  so  disagreeable  to  me ;  and  have  spared  me  the 
painful  necessity  of  the  step  which  I  am  compelled 
to  take.  For  a  long  time  I  could  not  believe  my 
parents  were  serious  in  wishing  to  sacrifice  me. 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  73 


but  have  in  vain  entreated  them  to  spare  me.  I 
cannot  undergo  .the  shame  and  misery  of  a  union  with 
you.  To  the  very  last  hour  I  remonstrated  in  vain, 
and  only  now  anticipate,  by  a  few  hours,  my  de- 
parture from  the  home  from  which  they  themselves 
were  about  to  expel  me. 

" '  When  you  receive  this,  I  shall  be  united  to  the 
person  to  whom,  as  you  are  aware,  my  heart  was 
given  long  ago.  My  parents  are  already  informed 
of  the  step  I  have  taken.  And  I  have  my  own 
honour  to  consult,  even  before  their  benefit :  they 
will  forgive  me,  I  hope  and  feel,  before  long. 

" '  As  for  yourself,  may  I  not  hope  that  time  will 
calm  your  exquisite  feelings  too  ?  I  leave  MARY 
ANN  behind  to  console  you.  She  admires  you  as  you 
deserve  to  be  admired,  and  with  a  constancy  which  I 
entreat  you  to  try  and  imitate.  Do,  my  dear  MR. 
PLUSH,  try — for  the  sake  of  your  sincere  friend  and 
admirer,  "  '  A.' 

" '  P.  S.  I  leave  the  wedding-dresses  behind  for 
her:  the  diamonds  are  beautiful,  and  will  become 
MRS.  PLUSH  admirably.'" 

"  This  was  hall ! — Confewshn  !     And  there  stood 

the  footmen  sniggerin,  and  that  hojous  MARY  HANN 

half  a  cryin,  half  a  laffing  at  me !     '  Who  has  she 

gone  hoff  with  ? '  rors  I ;    and  MARY  HANN  (smiling 

4 


74  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


with  one  hi)  just  touched  the  top  of  one  of  the  Johns' 
canes  who  was  goin  out  with  the  noats  to  put  hoff 
the  brekfst.  It  was  SILVERTOP  then ! 

"  I  bust  out  of  the  house  in  a  stayt  of  diamonia- 
cal  igsitement ! 

"  The  storry  of  that  iloapmint  /  have  no  art  to 
tell.  Here  it  is  from  the  'Morning  Tatler'  news- 
paper. 

"ELOPEMENT   IN    HIGH   LIFE. 
"THE  ONLY  AUTHENTIC  ACCOUNT. 

"The  neighbourhood  of  Berkeley  Square,  and 
the  whole  fashionable  world,  has  been  thrown  into  a 
state  of  the  most  painful  excitement  by  an  event 
which  has  just  placed  a  noble  family  in  great  per- 
plexity and  affliction. 

"  It  has  long  been  known  among  the  select  no- 
bility and  gentry  that  a  marriage  was  on  the  tapis 
between  the  only  daughter  of  a  Noble  Earl,  and  a 
Gentleman  whose  rapid  fortunes  in  the  railway  world 
have  been  the  theme  of  general  remark.  "Yester- 
day's paper,  it  was  supposed  in  all  human  probability 
would  have  contained  an  account  of  the  marriage  of 
JAMES  DE  LA  PL — CHE,  ESQ.,  and  the  LADY  ANGE- 
LINA   ,  daughter  of  the  Right  Honorable  the 

EARL  OF  B — RE — CRES.  The  preparations  for  this 
ceremony  were  complete  :  we  had  the  pleasure  of  in- 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  75 


specting  the  rich  trousseau  (prepared  by  Miss  TWID- 
DLER, of  Pall  Mall) ;  the  magnificent  jewels  from  the 
establishment  of  MESSRS.  STORR  &  MORTIMER;  the 
elegant  marriage  cake,  which,  already  cut  up  and 
portioned,  is,  alas !  not  destined  to  be  eaten  by  the 
friends  of  MR.  DE  LA  PL — CHE  ;  the  superb  carriages 
and  magnificent  liveries,  which  had  been  provided  in 
a  style  of  the  most  lavish  yet  tasteful  sumptuosity. 
The  Right  Reverend  the  LORD  BISHOP  OF  BULLOCK- 
SMITHY  had  arrived  in  town  to  celebrate  the  nuptials, 
and  is  staying  at  MIVART'S.  What  must  have  been 
the  feelings  of  that  venerable  prelate,  what  those  of 
the  agonised  and  noble  parents  of  the  LADY  ANGE- 
LINA— when  it  was  discovered,  on  the  day  previous  to 
the  wedding,  that  her  Ladyship  had  fled  the  paternal 
mansion  !  To  the  venerable  Bishop  the  news  of  his 
noble  niece's  departure  might  have  been  fatal :  we 
have  it  from  the  waiters  of  MIVART'S  that  his  Lord- 
ship was  about  to  indulge  in  the  refreshment  of 
turtle  soup  when  the  news  was  brought  to  him  ;  im- 
mediate apoplexy  was  apprehended  ;  but  MR.  MA- 
CANN,  the  celebrated  Surgeon,  of  Westminster,  was 
luckily  passing  through  Bond  Street  at  the  time,  and 
being  promptly  called  in,  bled  and  relieved  the  exem- 
plary patient.  His  Lordship  will  return  to  the 
Palace,  Bullocksmithy.  to-morrow. 

•    "  The  frantic  agonies  of  the  Right  Honorable  the 
EARL  OF  BAREACRES  can  be  imagined  by  every  pater- 


76  JEAMES's    DIARY. 


nal  heart.  Far  be  it  from  us  to  disturb — impossible  is 
it  for  us  to  describe  their  noble  sorrow.  Our  reporters 
have  made  inquiries  every  ten  minutes  at  the  Earl's 
mansion  in  Hill  Street,  regarding  the  health  of  the 
Noble  Peer  and  his  incomparable  Countess.  They 
have  been  received  with  a  rudeness  which  we  deplore 
but  pardon.  One  was  threatened  with  a  cane ;  an- 
other, in  the  pursuit  of  his  official  inquiries,  was 
saluted  with  a  pail  of  water ;  a  third  gentleman  was 
menaced  in  a  pugilistic  manner  by  his  Lordship's 
porter  :  but  being  of  the  Irish  nation,  a  man  of  spirit 
and  sinew,  and  Master  of  Arts  of  Trinity  College, 
Dublin,  the  gentleman  of  our  establishment  con- 
fronted the  menial,  and  having  severely  beaten  him. 
retired  to  a  neighbouring  hotel  much  frequented  by 
the  domestics  of  the  surrounding  nobility,  and  there 
obtained  what  we  believe  to  be  THE  MOST  ACCURATE 
PARTICULARS  of  this  extraordinary  occurrence. 

"  GEORGE  FREDERICK  JENNINGS,  third  footman  in 
the  establishment  of  LORD  BAREACRES,  stated  to  our 
employ^  as  follows : — LADY  ANGELINA  had  been 
promised  to  MR.  DE  LA  PLUCHE  for  near  six  weeks. 
She  never  could  abide  that  gentleman.  He  was  the 
laughter  of  all  the  servants'  hall.  Previous  to  his 
elevation  he  had  himself  been  engaged  in  a  domestic 
capacity.  At  that  period  he  had  offered  marriage  to 
MARY  ANN  HOGGINS,  who  was  living  in  the  quality 
of  ladies'  maid  in  the  family  where  MR.  DE  LA  P. 


JEAMES's    DIARY.  77 


was  employed.  Miss  HOGGINS  became  subsequently 
ladies'  maid  to  LADY  ANGELINA — the  elopement  was 
arranged  between  those  two. — It  was  Miss  HOGGINS 
who  delivered  the  note  which  informed  the  bereaved 
MR.  PLUSH  of  his  loss. 

"  SAMUEL  BUTTONS,  page  to  the  Right  Honorable 
the  EARL  OF  BAREACRES,  was  ordered  on  Friday 
forenoon,  at  eleven  o'clock,  to  fetch  a  cabriolet  from 
the  stand  in  Davies  Street.  He  selected  the  cab  No. 
19,796.  driven  by  GEORGE  GREGORY  MACARTY,  a  one- 
eyed  man  from  Clonakilty,  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Cork,  Ireland  (of  whom  more  anon),  and  waited,  ac- 
cording to  his  instructions,  at  the  corner  of  Berkeley 
Square  with  the  vehicle.  His  young  lady,  accompa- 
nied by  her  maid,  Miss  MARY  ANN  HOGGINS,  carry- 
ing a  band-box,  presently  arrived,  and'  entered  the 
cab  with  the  box :  what  were  the  contents  of  that 
box  we  have  never  been  able  to  ascertain.  On  ask- 
ing her  ladyship  whether  he  should  order  the  cab  to 
drive  in  any  particular  direction,  he  was  told  to  drive 
to  MADAME  CRINOLINE'S,  the  eminent  milliner,  in 
Cavendish  Square.  On  requesting  to  know  whether 
he  should  accompany  her  ladyship,  BUTTONS  was  per- 
emptorily ordered  by  Miss  HOGGINS  to  go  about  his 
business. 

"  Having  now  his  clue,  our  reporter  instantly 
went  in  search  of  cab  19,796,  or  rather  of  the  driver 
of  that  vehicle,  who  was  discovered  with  no  small  dif- 


78  JEAMES's    DIARY. 

ficuky  at  his  residence,  Whetstone  Park,  Lincoln's 
Inn  Fields,  where  he  lives  with  his  family  of  nine 
children.  Having  received  two  sovereigns,  instead, 
doubtless,  of  two  shillings  (his  regular  fare,  by  the 
way,  would  have  been  only  one  and  eightpence), 
MACARTY  had  not  gone  out  with  the  cab  for  the  last 
two  days,  passing  them  in  a  state  of  almost  ceaseless 
intoxication.  His  replies  were  very  incoherent  in 
answer  to  the  queries  of  our  reporter ;  and,  had  not 
that  gentleman  been  himself  a  compatriot,  it  is  proba- 
ble he  would  have  refused  altogether  to  satisfy  the 
curiosity  of  the  public. 

"  At  MADAME  CRINOLINE'S,  Miss  HOGGINS  quitted 
the  carriage,  and  a  gentleman  entered  it.  MACARTY 
describes  him  as  a  very  clever  gentleman  (meaning 
tall),  with  black  moustaches,  Oxford-grey  trousers, 
and  black  hat  and  a  pea-coat.  He  drove  the  couple 
to  the  JZuston  Square  Station,  and  there  left  them. 
How  he  employed  his  time  subsequently,  we  have 
stated. 

"  At  the  Euston  Square  Station,  the  gentleman 
of  our  establishment  learned  from  FREDERICK  COR- 
DUROY, a  porter  there,  that  a  gentleman  answering 
the  above  description  had  taken  places  to  Derby, 
We  have  despatched  a  confidential  gentleman 
thither,  by  a  special  train,  and  shall  give  his  report 
in  a  second  edition. 


JEAMES'S   DIARY.  79 


"SECOND  EDITION. 

"  (FROM  OUR  REPORTER.) 

' "  Newcastle,  Monday. 

" '  I  am  just  arrived  at  this  ancient  town,  at  the 
Elephant  and  Cucumber  Hotel.  A  party  travelling 
under  the  name  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jones,  the  gentle- 
man wearing  moustaches,  and  having  with  them  a 
blue  band-box,  arrived  by  the  train  two  hours  before 
me,  and  have  posted  onwards  to  Scotland.  I  have 
ordered  four  horses,  and  write  this  on  the  hind-boot, 
as  they  are  putting  to.' 


«  THIRD  EDITION. 

" '  Gretna  Green,  Monday  Evening. 
"  '  The  mystery  is  at  length  solved.  This  after- 
noon, at  four  o'clock,  the  Hymeneal  Blacksmith,  of 
Gretna  Green,  celebrated  the  marriage  between 
GEORGE  GRANBY  SILVERTOP,  Esq.,  a  Lieutenant  in 
the  150th  Hussars,  third  son  of  GENERAL  JOHN  SIL- 
VERTOP, of  Silvertop  Hall,  Yorkshire,  and  LADY 
EMILY  SILVERTOP,  daughter  of  the  late  sister  of 
the  present  EARL  OF  BAREACRES,  and  the  LADY 
ANGELINA  AMELIA  ARETHUSA  ANACONDA  ALEXAN- 


80  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


DRINA  ALICOMPANIA  ANNEMARIA  ANTOINETTA,  daugh- 
ter of  the  last  named  EARL  BAREACRES.' 

(Here  follows  a  long  Extract  from  the  Marriage 
Service  in  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer, 
which  was  not  read  on  the  occasion^  and 
need  not  be  repeated  here.) 

"  After  the  ceremony,  the  young  couple  partook 
of  a  slight  refreshment  of  sherry  and  water — the 
former,  the  Captain  pronounced  to  be  execrable ; 
and.  having  myself  tasted  some  glasses  from  the 
very  same  bottle  with  which  the  young  and  noble 
pair  were  served,  I  must  say  I  think  the  Captain  was 
rather  hard  upon  mine  host  of  the  Bagpipes  Hotel 
and  Posting  House,  whence  they  instantly  pro- 
ceeded. I  follow  them  as  soon  as  the  horses  have 
fed. 


"FOURTH  EDITION. 

"  SHAMEFUL  TREATMENT  OP  OUR  REPORTER. 

" '  WHISTLEBINKIE,  N.  B.,  Monday,  midnight. 

" '  I  arrived  at  this  romantic  little  villa  about 

two  hours  after   the   newly-married   couple,   whose 

progress  I  have  had  the  honour  to  trace,  reached 

Whistlebinkie.     They  have  taken  up  their  residence 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  81 


at   the    Cairngorm   Arms — mine    are    at   the    other 
hostelry,  the  Clachan  of  Whistlebinkie. 

" '  On  driving  up  to  the  Cairngorm  Arms,  I  found 
a  gentleman  of  military  appearance  standing  at  the 
door,  and  occupied  seemingly  in  smoking  a  cigar.  It 
was  very  dark  as  I  descended  from  my  carriage,  and 
the  gentleman  in  question  exclaimed,  '  Is  it  you, 
SOUTHDOWN,  my  boy  ?  You  have  come  too  late  : 
unless  you  are  come  to  have  some  supper ; '  or  words 
to  that  effect.  I  explained  that  I  was  not  the  LORD 
VISCOUNT  SOUTHDOWN,  and  politely  apprised  CAPTAIN 
SILVERTOP  (for  I  justly  concluded  the  individual 
before  me  could  be  no  other)  of  his  mistake. 

" '  Who  the  deuce  (the  Captain  used  a  stronger 
term)  are  you,  then?'  said  MR.  SILVERTOP.  'Are 
you  BAGGS  &  TAPEWELL,  my  uncle's  attorneys  ?  If 
you  are,  you  have  come  too  late  for  the  fair.' 

" '  I  briefly  explained  that  I  was  not  BAGGS  & 
TAPEWELL,  but  that  my  name  was  J — xs,  and  that  I 
was  a  gentleman  connected  with  the  Establishment 
of  the  Morning  Taller  newspaper. 

" '  And  what  has  brought  you  here,  MR.  MORNING 
TATLER?'  asked  my  interlocutor,  rather  roughly. 
My  answer  was  frank — that  the  disappearance  of  a 
noble  lady  from  the  house  of  her  friends  had  caused 
the  greatest  excitement  in  the  metropolis,  and  that 
my  employers  were  anxious  to  give  the  public  every 
particular  regarding  an  event  so  singular. 
4* 


82  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


" '  And  do  you  mean  to  say,  sir,  that  you  have 
dogged  me  all  the  way  from  London,  and  that  my 
family  affairs  are  to  be  published  for  the  readers  of 
the  Morning  Taller  newspaper?  The  Morning 

Taller  be (the  Captain  here  gave  utterance  to 

an  oath  which  I  shall  not  repeat)  and  you  too,  sir  ; 
you  impudent  meddling  scoundrel.' 

"  '  Scoundrel,  sir  ! '  said  I.  '  Yes,'  replied  the 
irate  gentleman,  seizing  me  rudely  by  the  collar — 
and  he  would  have  choked  me,  but  that  my  blue 
satin  stock  and  false  collar  gave  way,  and  were  left 
in  the  hands  of  this  gentleman.  '  Help,  landlord  ! ' 
I  loudly  exclaimed,  adding,  I  believe, '  murder,'  and 
other  exclamations  of  alarm.  In  vain  I  appealed  to 
the  crowd,  which  by  this  time  was  pretty  considera- 
ble ;  they  and  the  unfeeling  post-boys  only  burst  into 
laughter,  and  called  out,  '  Give  it  him,  Captain.'  A 
struggle  ensued,  in  which,  I  have  no  doubt,  I  should 
have  had  the  better,  but  that  the  Captain,  joining 
suddenly  in  the  general  and  indecent  hilarity,  which 
was  doubled  when  I  fell  down,  stopped,  and  said, 
'  Well,  JIMS,  I  won't  fight  on  my  marriage-day.  Go 
into  the  tap,  JIMS,  and  order  a  glass  of  brandy  and 
water  at  my  expense — and  mind  I  don't  see  your 
face  to-morrow  morning,  or  I'll  make  it  more  ugly 
than  it  is.' 

"  With  these  gross  expressions  and  a  cheer  from 
the  crowd,  MR.  SILVERTOP  entered  the  inn.  I  need 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  83 


not  say  that  I  did  not  partake  of  his  hospitality,  and 
that  personally  I  despise  his  insults.  I  make  them 
known  that  they  may  call  down  the  indignation  of 
the  body  of  which  I  am  a  member,  and  throw  myself 
on  the  sympathy  of  the  public,  as  a  gentleman  shame- 
fully assaulted  and  insulted  in  the  discharge  of  a 
public  duty." 


"  THUS  you've  scan  how  the  flower  of  my  affeck- 
shns  was  tawn  out  of  my  busm,  and  my  art  was  left 
bleading.  HANGELINA  !  I  forgive  thee.  Mace  thoube 
appy  !  If  ever  artfelt  prayer  for  others  wheel  awail- 
ed  on  i,  the  beink  on  womb  you  trampled  addresses 
those  subblygations  to  Evn  in  your  bej  ! 

"  I  went  home  like  a  maniack,  after  hearing  the 
enouncement  of  HANGELINA'S  departer.  She'd  been 
gone  twenty  hours  when  I  heard  the  fatle  noose. 
Purshoot  was  vain.  Suppose  I  did  kitch  her  up, 
they  were  married,  and  what  could  we  do?  This 
sensable  remark  I  made  to  EARL  BAREACRES,  when 
that  distragted  nobleman  igspawstulated  with  me. 
Er  who  was  to  have  been  my  mother-in  lor,  the 
Countiss,  I  never  from  that  momink  sor  agin.  My 
presnts,  troosoes,  juels,  &c.,  were  sent  back — with 
the  igsepshin  of  the  diminds  &  Cashmear  shawl, 
which  her  Ladyship  coodrtt  find.  Ony  it  was  wisp- 
erd  that  at  the  nex  buthday  she  was  seen  with  a 
shawl  igsackly  of  the  same  pattn.  Let  er  keep  it. 


84  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


"  SOITTHDOWN  was  phurius.  He  came  to  me  hafter 
the  ewent,  and  wanted  me  to  adwance  501b,  so  that 
he  might  purshew  his  fewgitif  sister — but  I  wasn't  to 
be  ad  with  that  sort  of  chaugh — there  was  no  more 
money  for  that  famly.  So  he  went  away,  and  gave 
huttrance  to  his  feelinx  in  a  poem,  which  appeared 
(price  2  guineas)  in  the  Bel  Asombly. 

"All  the  juilers,  manchumakers,  lacemen,  coch 
bilders,  apolstrers,  hors  dealers,  and  weddencake 
makers  came  pawring  in  with  their  bills,  haggra- 
vating  feelings  already  woondid  beyond  enjurants. 
That  madniss  didn't  seaze  me  that  night  was  a 
mussy.  Fever,  fewry,  and  rayge  rack'd  my  hagnized 
braind,  and  drove  sleap  from  my  throbbink  ilids. 
Hall  night  I  follored  HANGELINAR  in  imadganation 
along  the  North  Road.  I  wented  cusses  &  mally- 
dickshuns  on  the  hinfamus  SILVERTOP.  I  kickd'and 
rored  in  my  unhuttarable  whoe  !  I  seazd  my  pillar  ; 
I  pitcht  into  it :  pummld  it,  strangled  it,  ha  har  !  I 
thought  it  was  SILVERTOP  writhing  in  my  Jint  grasp  ; 
and  taw  the  hordayshis  Villing  lim  from  lim  in  the 

terrable  strenth  of  my  despare  ! Let 

me  drop  a  cutting  over  the  memries  of  that  night. 
When  my  boddy-suvnt  came  with  my  Ot  water  in 
the  mawning,  the  livid  Copse  in  the  charnill  was  not 
payler  than  the  gashly  DE  LA  PLUCHE  ! 

" '  Give  me  the  Share-list,  Mandeville,'  I  mican- 
ickly  igsclaimed.  I  had  not  perused  it  for  the  3  past 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  85 


days,  my  etention  being  engayged  elseware.  Hevns 
&  huth ! — what  was  it  I  red  there  ?  What  was  it 
that  made  me  spring  outabed  as  if  sumbady  had  given 
me  cold  pig  1 — I  red  REWIN  in  that  Share-list — the 

PANNICK  was  in  full  hoparation  ! 

#  *  *  *  # 

"  Shall  I  discribe  that  Kitastrafy  with  which  hall 
Hengland  is  fimilliar  ?  My  &  rifewses  to  cronnicle 
the  misfortns  which  lassarated  my  bleeding  art  in 
Hoctober  last.  On  the  fust  of  Hawgust  where  was 
I  ?  Director  of  twenty-three  Companies  ;  older  of 
scrip  hall  at  a  primmium,  and  worth  at  least  a  quar- 
ter of  a  millium.  On  Lord  Mare's  day,  my  Saint 
Helena's  quotid  at  1 4  pm,  were  down  at  £  discount ; 
my  Central  Ichaboes  at  |  discount ;  my  Table  Mount- 
ing &  Hottentot  Grand  Trunk,  no  where ;  my 
Bathershins  and  Derrynane  Beg,  of  which  I'd  bought 
2000  for  the  account  at  17  primmium  down  -to  nix  ; 
my  Juan  Fernandez,  &  my  Great  Central  Oregons 
prostrit.  There  was  a  momint  when  I  thought  I 
shouldn't  be  alive  to  write  my  own  tail !  " 

(Here  follow  in  MR.  PLUSH'S  MS.  about  twenty- 
jfmr  pages  of  railroad  calculations,  which  we  pre- 
formit.) 

"  Those  beests,  PUMP  &  ALDGATE,  once  so  cring- 
ing and  umble,  wrote  me  a  threatnen  letter  because  I 
overdrew  my  account  three-and-sixpence :  woodn't 
advance  me  five  thousnd  on  250000  worth  of  scrip  ; 


86  JEAMES's    DIARY. 


kep  me  waiting  2  hours  when  I  asked  to  see  the 
house  ;  and  then  sent  out  SPOUT,  the  jewnior  partner, 
saying  they  woodn't  discount  my  paper,  and  implawed 
me  to  clothes  my  account.  I  did  :  I  paid  the  three- 
and-six  ballince,  and  never  sor  'em  mor. 

"  The  market  fell  daily.  The  Rewin  grew  wusser 
and  wusser.  Hagnies,  Hagnies  !  It  wasn't  in  the 
city  aloan  my  misfortns  came  upon  me.  They  beerd- 
ed  me  in  my  own  Ome.  The  Biddle  who  kips  watch 
at  the  Halbany  wodn  keep  Misfortn  out  of  my 
chambers ;  and  MRS.  TWIDDLER,  of  Pull  Mall,  and 
MR.  HUNX,  of  Long  Acre,  put  egsicution  into  my 
apartmince,  and  swep  off  every  stick  of  my  furniture. 
'  Wardrobe  &  furniture  of  a  man  of  fashion.'  What 
an  adwertisement  GEORGE  ROBINS  did  make  of  it ; 
and  what  a  crowd  was  collected  to  laff  at  the  pros- 
pick  of  my  ruing !  My  chice  plait ;  my  seller  of 
wine  ;  my  picturs — that  of  myself  included  (it  was 
MARYHANN,  bless  her  !  that  bought  it,  unbeknown  to 
me) ;  all — all  went  to  the  ammer.  That  brootle 
FITZWARREN,  my  ex-vally,  womb  I  met,  fimilliarly 
slapt  me  on  the  sholder,  and  said, '  JEAMES,  my  boy, 
you'd  best  go  into  suwis  aginn.'  " 

"  I  did  go  into  suvvis — the  wust  of  all  suvvices — 
I  went  into  the  Queen's  Bench  Prison,  and  lay  there 
a  misrabble  captif  for  6  mortial  weeks.  Misrabble 
shall  I  say  ?  no,  not  misrabble  altogether  ;  there  was 
sunlike  in  the  dunjing  of  the  pore  prisner.  I  had 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  87 


visitors.  A  cart  used  to  drive  hup  to  the  prizn  gates 
of  Saturdays ;  a  washywoman's  cart,  with  a  fat  old 
lady  in  it,  and  a  young  one.  Who  was  that  young 
one  1  Every  one  who  has  an  art  can  guess,  it  was 
my  blue-eyed  blushing  Hangel  of  a  MARY  HANN  ! 
J  Shall  we  take  him  out  iu  the  linnen-basket,  grand- 
mamma ?  '  MARY  HANN  said.  Bless  her,  she'd  al- 
ready learned  to  say  grandmamma  quite  natral ;  but 
I  didn't  go  out  that  way  ;  I  went  out  by  the  door  a 
white-washed  man.  Ho,  what  a  feast  there  was  at 
Healing  the  day  I  came  out !  I'd  thirteen  shillings 
left  when  I'd  bought  the  gold  ring.  I  wasn't  prowd. 
I  turned  the  mangle  for  three  weeks  ;  and  then 
UNCLE  BILL  said,  '•  Well,  there  is  some  good  in  the 
feller  ; '  and  it  was  agreed  that  we  should  marry." 

The  PLUSH  manuscript  finishes  here  ;  it  is  many 
weeks  since  we  saw  the  accomplished  writer,  and  we 
have  only  just  learned  his  fate.  We  are  happy  to 
state  it  is  a  comfortable  and  almost  a  prosperous  one. 

The  Honorable  and  Right  Reverend  LIONEL 
THISTLEWOOD,  Lord  Bishop  of  Bullocksmithy,  was 
mentioned  as  the  uncle  of  LADY  ANGELINA  SILVER- 
TOP.  Her  elopement  with  her  cousin  caused  deep 
emotion  to  the  venerable  prelate :  he  returned  to  the 
palace  at  Bullocksmithy,  of  which  he  had  been  for 
thirty  years  the  episcopal  ornament,  and  where  he 
married  three  wives,  who  lie  buried  in  his  Cathedral 
Church  of  St.  Boniface.  Bullocksmithy. 


88  JEAMES'S    DIARY. 


The  admirable  man  has  rejoined  those  whom  he 
loved.  As  he  was  preparing  a  charge  to  his  clergy  in 
his  study  after  dinner,  the  Lord  Bishop  fell  suddenly 
down  in  a  fit  of  apoplexy ;  his  butler,  bringing  in 
his  accustomed  dish  of  devilled-kidneys  for  supper, 
discovered  the  venerable  form  extended  on  the  Tur-. 
key  carpet  with  a  glass  of  Madeira  in  his  hand  ;  but 
life  was  extinct :  and  surgical  aid  was  therefore  not 
particularly  useful. 

All  the  late  prelate's  wives  had  fortunes,  which 
the  admirable  man  increased  by  thrift,  the  judicious 
sale  of  leases  which  fell  in  during  his  episcopacy,  &c. 
He  left  three  hundred  thousand  pounds — divided  be- 
tween his  nephew  and  niece — not  a  greater  sum  than 
has  been  left  by  several  deceased  Irish  prelates. 

What  LORD  SOUTHDOWN  has  done  with  his  share 
we  are  not  called  upon  to  state.  He  has  composed 
an  epitaph  to  the  Martyr  of  Bullocksmithy,  which 
does  him  infinite  credit.  But  we  are  happy  to  state 
that  LADY  ANGELINA  SILVERTOP  presented  five  hun- 
dred pounds  to  her  faithful  and  affectionate  servant, 
MARY  ANN  HOGGINS,  on  her  marriage  with  MR. 
JAMES  PLUSH,  to  whom  her  Ladyship  also  made  a 
handsome  present — namely,  the  lease,  good-will,  and 
fixtures  of  the  "Wheel  of  Fortune"  public  house,  near 
Sheppherd's  Market,  May  Fair  ;  a  house  greatly  fre- 
quented by  all  the  nobility's  footmen,  doing  a  genteel 


JEAMES'S    DIARY.  89 


stroke  of  business  in  the  neighborhood,  and  where,  as 
we  have  heard,  the  "Butlers'  Club"  is  held. 

Here  MR.  PLUSH  lives  happy  in  a  blooming  and 
interesting  wife  :  reconciled  to  a  middle  sphere  of 
life,  as  he  was  to  a  humbler  and  a  higher  one  before. 
He  has  shaved  off  his  whiskers,  and  accommodates  him- 
self to  an  apron  with  perfect  good  humor.  A  gentle- 
man connected  with  this  establishment  dined  at  the 
Wheel  of  Fortune,  the  other  day,  and  collected  the 
above  particulars.  MR.  PLUSH  blushed  rather,  as 
he  brought  in  the  first  dish,  and  told  his  story  very 
modestly  over  a  pint  of  excellent  port.  He  had  only 
one  thing  in  life  to  complain  of,  he  said — that  a  wit- 
less version  of  his  adventures  had  been  produced  at 
the  Prince's  Theatre,  "  without  with  your  leaf  or  by 
your  leaf,"  as  he  expressed  it.  "  Has  for  the  rest," 
the  worthy  fellow  said,  "  I'm  appy — praps  betwigst 
you  and  me  I'm  in  my  proper  spear.  I  enjy  my  glass 
of  beer  or  port  (with  your  elth  and  my  suwice  to 
you,  Sir),  quite  as  much  as  my  clarrit  in  my  praws- 
prus  days.  I've  a  good  busniss,  which  is  likely  to 
be  better.  If  a  man  can't  be  appy  with  such  a  wife 
as  my  MARY  HANN,  he's  a  beest :  and  when  a  chris- 
tening takes  place  in  our  famly,  will  you  give  my 
complments  to  Mr.  Punch,  and  ask  him  to  be  god- 
father." 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  EHINE. 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE, 


CHAPTER  I. 

IT  WAS  in  the  good  old  days  of  chivalry,  when 
every  mountain  that  bathes  its  shadows  in  the  Rhine 
had  its  castle — not  inhabited  as  now  by  a  few  rats 
and  owls,  nor  covered  with  moss  and  wall-flowers,  and 
funguses,  and  creeping  ivy — no,  no  !  where  the  ivy 
now  clusters  there  grew  strong  portcullis  and  bars  of 
steel ;  where  the  wall-flower  now  quivers  in  the  ram- 
part there  were  silken  banners  embroidered  with  won- 
derful heraldry;  men-at-arms  marched  where  now  you 
shall  only  see  a  bank  of  moss  or  a  hideous  black  cham- 
pignon ;  and  in  place  of  the  rats  and  owlets,  I  warrant 
me  there  were  ladies  and  knights  to  revel  in  the  great 
halls,  and  to  feast  and  to  dance,  and  to  make  love 
there.  They  are  passed  away.  Those  old  knights 
and  ladies,  their  golden  hair  first  changed  to  silver, 
and  then  pure  silver  it  dropped  off  and  disappeared 
for  ever ;  their  elegant  legs,  so  slim  and  active  in 


94  A    LEGEND   OF    THE    RHINE. 

the  dance,  became  swollen  and  gouty,  and  then,  from 
being  swollen  and  gouty,  dwindled  down  to  bare  bone 
shanks  ;  the  roses  left  their  cheeks,  and  then  their 
cheeks  disappeared,  and  left  their  skulls,  and  then 
their  skulls  powdered  into  dust,  and  all  sign  of  them 
was  gone.  And  as  it  was  with  them  so  shall  it  be 
with  us.  Ho,  seneschal !  fill  me  up  a  cup  of  liquor  ! 
put  sugar  in  it,  good  fellow,  yea,  and  a  little  hot  wa- 
ter— a  very  little,  for  my  soul  is  sad,  as  I  think  of 
those  days  and  knights  of  old. 

They,  too,  have  revelled  and  feasted,  and  where 
are  they  ? — gone  ?  nay,  not  altogether  gone  ;  for  doth 
not  the  eye  catch  glimpses  of  them  as  they  walk  yon- 
der in  the  gray  limbo  of  romance,  shining  faintly  in 
their  coats  of  steel,  wandering  by  the  side  of  long- 
haired ladies,  with  long-tailed  gowns  that  little  pages 
carry.  Yes  ;  one  sees  them  :  the  poet  sees  them  still 
in  the  far  off  Cloudland,  and  hears  the  ring  of  their 
clarions  as  they  hasten  to  battle  or  tourney — and  the 
dim  echoes  of  their  lutes  chanting  of  love  and  fair  la- 
dies !  Gracious  privilege  of  poesy !  It  is  as  the 
Dervish's  collyrium  to  the  eyes,  and  causes  them  to 
see  treasures  that  to  the  sight  of  donkeys  are  invi?!- 
y  I  ble.  Blessed  treasures  of  fancy !  I  would  not  change 
ye  ;  no,  not  for  many  donkey-loads  of  gold.  .  .  Fill 
again,  jolly  seneschal,  thou  brave  wag:  chalk  me  up 
the  produce  on  the  hostel  door — surely  the  spirits  of 
old  are  mixed  up  in  the  wondrous  liquor,  and  gentle 


A    LEGEND    OF   THE    RHINE.  95 

visions  of  by-gone  princes  and  princesses  look  bland- 
ly down  on  us  from  the  cloudy  perfume  of  the  pipe. 
Do  you  know  in  what  year  the  fairies  left  the  Rhine  £ 
— long  before  Murray's  Guide-Book  was  wrote — long 
before  squat  steamboats,  with  snorting  funnels,  came 
paddling  down  the  stream.  Do  you  not  know  that 
once  upon  a  time  the  appearance  of  eleven  thousand 
British  virgins  was  considered  at  Cologne  as  a  won- 
der ?  Now  there  come  twenty  thousand  such  annu- 
ally, accompanied  by  their  ladies'-maids.  But  of 
them  we  will  say  no  more — let  us  back  to  those  who 
went  before  them. 

Many,  many  hundred  thousand  years  ago,  and  at 
the  exact  period  when  chivalry  was  in  full  bloom, 
there  occurred  a  little  history  upon  the  banks  of  the 
Rhine,  which  has  been  already  written  in  a  book,  and 
hence  must  be  positively  true.  'Tis  a  story  of  knights 
and  ladies — of  love  and  battle  and  virtue  rewarded,  a 
story  of  princes  and  noble  lords,  moreover  the  best 
of  company.  Gentles,  an  ye  will,  ye  shall  hear  it. 
Fair  dames  and  damsels,  may  your  loves  be  as  happy 
as  those  of  the  heroine  of  this  romaunt. 

On  the  cold  and  rainy  evening  of  Thursday  the 
26th  of  October,  in  the  year  previously  indicated, 
such  travellers  as  might  have  chanced  to  be  abroad 
in  that  bitter  night,  might  have  remarked  a  fellow- 
wayfarer  journeying  on  the  road  from  Oberwinter 
to  Godesberg.  He  was  a  man  not  tall  in  stature,  but 


96  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    EHINE. 

of  the  most  athletic  proportions,  and  Time,  which  had 
browned  and  furrowed  his  cheek,  and  sprinkled  his 
locks  with  gray,  declared  pretty  clearly  that  He  must 
have  been  acquainted  with  the  warrior  for  some  fifty 
good  years.  He  was  armed  in  mail,  and  rode  a  pow- 
erful and  active  battle-horse,  which  (though  the  way 
the  pair  had  come  that  day  was  long  and  weary  in- 
deed) yet  supported  the  warrior,  his  armour  and 
luggage,  with  seeming  ease.  As  it  was  in  a  friend's 
country,  the  knight  did  not  think  fit  to  wear  his  heavy 
destrier,  or  helmet,  which  hung  at  his  saddlebow 
over  his  portmanteau.  Both  were  marked  with  the 
coronet  of  a  Count ;  and  from  the  crown  which  sur- 
mounted the  helmet,  rose  the  crest  of  his  knight- 
ly race,  an  arm  proper  lifting  a  naked  sword. 

At  his  right  hand  and  convenient  to  the  warrior's 
grasp  hung  his  mangonel  or  mace — a  terrific  weapon 
which  had  shattered  the  brains  of  many  a  turbaned 
soldan ;  while  over  his  broad  and  ample  chest  there 
fell  the  triangular  shield  of  the  period,  whereon  were 
emblazoned  his  arms — argent,  a  gules  wavy,  on  a  sal- 
tire  reversed  of  the  second  ;  the  latter  device  was 
awarded  for  a  daring  exploit  before  Ascalon,  by  the 
Emperor  Maximilian,  and  a  reference  to  the  German 
Peerage  of  that  day,  or  a  knowledge  of  high  families 
which  every  gentleman  then  possessed,  would  have 
sufficed  to  show  at  once  that  the  rider  we  have  de- 
scribed was  of  the  noble  house  of  Hombourg.  It  was, 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  97 

in  fact,  the  gallant  knight  Sir  Ludwig  of  Hombourg 
— his  rank  as  a  count,  and  chamberlain  of  the  Empe- 
ror of  Austria,  was  marked  by  the  cap  of  maintenance 
with  the  peacock's  feather  which  he  wore  (when  not 
armed  for  battle),  and  his  princely  blood  was  denoted 
by  the  oiled  silk  umbrella  which  he  carried  (a  very 
meet  protection  against  the  pitiless  storm),  and  which, 
as  it  is  known,  in  the  middle  ages,  none  but  princes 
were  justified  in  using.  A  bag,  fastened  with  a  bra- 
zen padlock,  and  made  of  the  costly  produce  of  the 
Persian  looms,  (then  extremely  rare  in  Europe,)  told 
that  he  had  travelled  in  Eastern  climes.  This,  too, 
was  evident  from  the  inscription  writ  on  card  or 
parchment  and  sewed  on  the  bag.  It  first  ran 
"Count  Ludwig  cle  Hombourg,  Jerusalem;''  but  the 
name  of  the  Holy  City  had  been  dashed  out  with  the 
pen,  and  that  of  "  Godesberg"  substituted — so  far 
indeed  had  the  cavalier  travelled  ! — and  it  is  needless 
to  state  that  the  bag  in  question  contained  such  re- 
maining articles  of  the  toilet,  as  the  high-born  noble 
deemed  unnecessary  to  place  in  his  valise. 

"  By  Saint  Bugo  of  Katzenellenbogen  !  "  said  the 
good  knight,  shivering,  "  'tis  colder  here  than  at  Da- 
mascus !  Marry,  I  am  so  hungry  I  could  eat  one  of 
Saladin's  camels.  Shall  I  be  at  Godesberg  in  time 
for  dinner?"  And  taking  out  his  horologe,  (which 
hung  in  a  small  side-pocket  of  his  embroidered  sur- 
coat.)  the  crusader  consoled  himself  by  finding  that  it 


98  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

was  but  seven  of  the  night,  and  that  he  would  reach 
Godesberg  ere  the  warder  had  sounded  the  second  gong. 
His  opinion  was  borne  out  by  the  result.  His 
good  steed,  which  could  trot  at  a  pinch  fourteen 
leagues  in  the  hour,  brought  him  to  this  famous  castle, 
just  as  the  warder  was  giving  the  first  welcome  sigi;al 
which  told  that  the  princely  family  of  Count  Karl 
Margrave,  of  Godesberg,  were  about  to  prepare  for 
their  usual  repast  at  eight  o'clock.  Crowds  of  pages 
and  horsekeepers  were  in  the  Court,  when  the  port- 
cullis being  raised,  and  amidst  the  respectful  salutes 
of  the  sentinels,  the  most  ancient  friend  of  the  house 
of  Godesberg  entered  into  its  Castle  yard.  The  un- 
der-butler  stepped  forward  to  take  his  bridle-rein. 
"  Welcome,  Sir  Count,  from  the  Holy  Land,"  ex- 
claimed the  faithful  old  man.  "  Welcome,  Sir  Count, 
from  the  Holy  Land,"  cried  the  rest  of  the  servants 
in  the  hall ;  and  a  stable  was  speedily  found  for  the 
Count's  horse,  Streithengst,  and  it  was  not  before 
the  gallant  soldier  had  seen  that  true  animal  well 
cared  for,  that  he  entered  the  castle  itself,  and  was 
conducted  to  his  chamber.  Wax  candles  burning 
bright  on  the  mantel,  flowers  in  china  vases, 
every  variety  of  soap,  and  a  flask  of  the  precious 
essence,  manufactured  at  the  neighbouring  city  of 
Cologne,  were  displayed  on  his  toilet-table ;  a  cheer- 
ing fire  <:  crackled  in  the  hearth,"  and  showed  that 
the  good  knight's  coming  had  been  looked  and  cared 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  99 

for.  The  serving  maidens,  bringing  him  hot-water 
for  his  ablutions,  smiling  asked,  "  would  he  have  his 
couch  warmed  at  eve  ?  "  One  might  have  been  sure 
from  their  blushes  that  the  tough  old  soldier  made 
an  arch  reply.  The  family  tonsor  came  to  know 
whether  the  noble  Count  had  need  of  his  skill.  "  By 
Saint  Bugo,"  said  the  knight,  as  seated  in  an  easy 
settle  by  the  fire,  the  tonsor  rid  his  chin  of  its  stubby 
growth,  and  lightly  passed  the  tongs  and  pomatum 
through  '  the  sable  silver'  of  his  hair.  "  By  Saint 
Bugo,  this  is  better  than  my  dungeon  at  Grand  Cairo. 
How  is  my  godson  Otto,  Master  Barber ;  and  the 
Lady  Countess,  his  mother ;  and  the  noble  Count 
Karl,  my  dear  brother-in-arms '(  " 

"  They  are  well,"  said  the  tonsor,  with  a  sigh. 

"  By  Saint  Bugo.  I  am  glad  on't ;  but  why  that 
sigh?" 

"  Things  are  not  as  they  have  been  with  my  good 
lord,"  answered  the  hair-dresser,  "  ever  since  Count 
Gottfried's  arrival." 

"  He  here  !  "  roared  Sir  Ludwig.  "  Good  never 
came  where  Gottfried  was  ;"  and  the  while  he  donned 
a  pair  of  silken  hose,  that  showed  admirably  the  pro- 
portions of  his  lower  limbs,  and  exchanged  his  coat 
of  mail  for  the  spotless  vest  and  black  surcoat  collar- 
ed with  velvet  of  Genoa,  which  was  the  fitting  cos- 
tume for  "  knight  in  ladye's  bower," — the  knight  en- 
tered into  a  conversation  with  the  barber,  who  ex- 


100  A    LEGEND    OP    THE    RHINE. 

plained  to  him  with  the  usual  garrulousness  of  his 
tribe,  what  was  the  present  position  of  the  noble 
family  of  Godesberg. 

This  will  be  narrated  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE     G O D E SB E R G E R S . 

'Tis  needless  to  state  that  the  gallant  warrior  Lud- 
wig,  of  Hombourg,  found  in  the  bosom  of  his  friend's 
family  a  cordial  welcome.  The  brother-in-arms  of 
the  Margrave  Karl,  he  was  the  esteemed  friend  of 
the  Margravine,  the  exalted  and  beautiful  Theodora, 
of  Boppum,  and  (albeit  no  theologian,  and  although 
the  first  princes  of  Christendom  coveted  such  an 
honour,)  he  was  selected  to  stand  as  sponsor  for  the 
Margrave's  son  Otto,  the  only  child  of  his  house. 

It  was  now  seventeen  years  since  the  Count  and 
Countess  had  been  united :  and  although  Heaven  had 
not  blest  their  couch  with  more  than  one  child,  it 
may  be  said  of  that  one,  that  it  was  a  prize,  and  that 
surely  never  lighted  on  the  earth  a  more  delightful 
vision.  When  Count  Ludwig,  hastening  to  the  holy 
wars,  had  quitted  his  beloved  godchild,  he  had  left 
him  a  boy  ;  he  now  found  him,  as  the  latter  rushed 
into  his  arms,  grown  to  be  one  of  the  finest  young 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  101 

men  in  Germany :  tall  and  excessively  graceful  in 
proportion,  with  the  blush  of  health  mantling  upon 
his  cheek,  that  was  likewise  adorned  with  the  first 
down  of  manhood,  and  with  magnificent  golden  ring- 
lets, such  as  a  Rowland  might  envy,  curling  over  his 
brow  and  his  shoulders.  His  eyes  alternately  beamed 
with  the  fire  of  daring,  or  melted  with  the  moist 
glance  of  benevolence.  Well  might  a  mother  be  proud 
of  such  a  boy  !  Well  might  the  brave  Ludwig  ex- 
claim, as  he  clasped  the  youth  to  his  breast,  "  By  St. 
Bugo  of  Katzenellenbogen,  Otto !  thou  art  fit  to  be 
one  of  Coeur  de  Lion's  grenadiers  ;" — and  it  was  the 
fact,  the  "  Childe"  of  Godesberg  measured  six  feet 
three. 

He  was  habited  for  the  evening  meal  in  the  costly, 
though  simple  attire  of  the  nobleman  of  the  period — 
and  his  costume  a  good  deal  resembled  that  of  the 
old  knight  whose  toilet  we  have  just  described ;  with 
the  difference  of  colour  however.  The  pourpoint 
worn  by  Young  Otto,  of  Godesberg,  was  of  blue, 
handsomely  decorated  with  buttons  of  carved  and 
embossed  gold  ;  his  haut-de-cliausses  or  leggins  were 
of  the  stuff  of  Nanquin.  then  brought  by  the  Lombard 
argosies  at  an  immense  price  from  China.  The 
neighbouring  country  of  Holland  had  supplied  his 
wrist  and  bosom  with  the  most  costly  laces  ;  and  thus 
attired,  with  an  opera-hat  placed  on  one  side  of  his 
head,  ornamented  with  a  single  flower  (that  brilliant 


102  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

one  the  tulip),  the  boy  rushed  into  his  godfather's 
dressing-room,  and  warned  him  that  the  banquet  was 
ready. 

It  was  indeed :  a  frown  had  gathered  on  the  dark 
brows  of  the  Lady  Theodora,  and  her  bosom  heaved 
with  an  emotion  akin  to  indignation — for  she  feared 
lest  the  soups  in  the  refectory  and  the  splendid  fish 
now  smoking  there  were  getting  cold — she  feared  not 
for  herself,  but  for  her  lord's  sake.  "  Godesberg," 
whispered  she  to  Count  Ludwig,  as  trembling  on  his 
arm  they  descended  from  the  drawing-room,  "  Godes- 
berg is  sadly  changed  of  late." 

"  By  Saint  Bugo  ! "  said  the  burly  knight,  starting ; 
"  these  are  the  very  words  the  barber  spake  ! " 

The  lady  heaved  a  sigh,  and  placed  herself  before 
the  soup-tureen.  For  some  time  the  good  knight 
Ludwig  of  Hombourg  was  too  much  occupied  in 
ladling  out  the  forced-meat  balls  and  rich  calves'-head 
of  which  the  delicious  pottage  was  formed  (in  ladling 
them  out,  did  we  say  ?  ay,  marry,  and  in  eating  them 
too,)  to  look  at  his  brother-in-arms  at  the  bottom  of 
the  table,  where  he  sat  with  his  son  on  his  left-hand, 
and  the  Baron  Gottfried  on  his  right. 

The  Margrave  was  indeed  changed.  "  By  Saint 
Bugo,"  whispered  Ludwig  to  the  Countess,  "your 
husband  is  as  surly  as  a  bear  that  hath  been  wounded 
o'  the  head."  Tears  falling  into  her  soup-plate  were 
her  only  reply.  The  soup,  the  turbot,  the  haunch  of 


A   LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  103 

mutton,  Count  Ludwig  remarked  that  the  Margrave 
sent  all  away  untasted. 

"  The  Boteler  will  serve  ye  with  wine,  Hom- 
bourg,"  said  the  Margrave  gloomily  from  the  end  of 
the  table  ;  not  even  an  invitation  to  drink  !  how  dif- 
ferent was  this  from  the  old  times ! 

But  when  in  compliance  with  this  order  the  bot- 
eler  proceeded  to  hand  round  the  mantling  vintage 
of  the  Cape  to  the  assembled  party,  and  to  fill 
young  Otto's  goblet  (which  the  latter  held  up  with 
the  eagerness  of  youth),  the  Margrave's  rage  knew 
no  bounds.  He  rushed  at  his  son ;  he  dashed  the 
wine-cup  over  his  spotless  vest ;  and  giving  him  three 
or  four  heavy  blows  which  would  have  knocked  down 
a  bonassus,  but  only  caused  the  young  childe  to 
blush ;  "  you  take  wine  ! "  roared  out  the  Margrave  ; 
"  you  dare  to  help  yourself !  Who  the  d-v-1  gave 
you  leave  to  help  yourself?"  and  the  terrible 
blows  were  reiterated  over  the  delicate  ears  of 
the  boy. 

"  Ludwig !  Ludwig  !  "  shrieked  the  Margravine. 

"  Hold  your  prate,  Madam,"  roared  the  Prince. 
"  By  Saint  Buffo,  mayn't  a  father  beat  his  own 
child?" 

"  His  OWN  CHILD  ! "  repeated  the  Margrave,  with 
a  burst,  almost  a  shriek  of  indescribable  angony. 
"Ah,  what  did  I  say?" 

Sir   Ludwig   looked    about   him   in   amaze ;    Sir 


104  A    LEGEND    OF   THE    RHINE. 

Gottfried  (at  the  Margrave's  right-hand)  smiled 
ghastlily ;  the  young  Otto  was  too  much  agitated  by 
the  recent  conflict  to  wear  any  expression  but  that 
of  extreme  discomfiture  ;  but  the  poor  Margravine 
turned  her  head  aside  and  blushed,  red  almost  as 
the  lobster  which  flanked  the  turbot  before  her. 

In  those  rude  old  times,  'tis  known  such  table 
quarrels  were  by  no  means  unusual  amongst  gallant 
knights ;  and  Ludwig,  who  had  oft  seen  the  Mar- 
grave cast  a  leg  of  mutton  at  an  offending  servitor, 
or  empty  a  sauce-boat  in  the  direction  of  the  Mar- 
gravine, thought  this  was  but  one  of  the  usual  out- 
breaks of  his  worthy  though  irascible  friend,  and 
wisely  determined  to  change  the  converse. 

"  How  is  my  friend,"  said  he,  "  the  good  knight, 
Sir  Hildebrandt?" 

"  By  Saint  Buffo,  this  is  too  much  !  "  screamed 
the  Margrave,  and  actually  rushed  from  the  room. 

"  By  Saint  Bugo,"  said  his  friend,  "  gallant 
knights,  gentle  sirs,  what  ails  my  good  Lord  Mar- 
grave ? " 

"  Perhaps  his  nose  bleeds,"  said  Gottfried,  with  a 
sneer. 

"  Ah,  my  kind  friend,"  said  the  Margravine,  with 
uncontrollable  emotion,  "I  fear  one  of  you  have 
passed  from  the  frying-pan  into  the  fire ; "  and 
making  the  signal  of  departure  to  the  ladies,  they 
ros.e  and  retired  to  coffee  in  the  drawing-room. 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  105 

The  Margrave  presently  came  back  again,  some- 
what more  collected  than  he  had  been.  "  Otto,"  he 
said  sternly.  "  go  join  the  ladies  :  it  becomes  not  a 
young  boy  to  remain  in  the  company  of  gallant 
knights  after  dinner."  The  noble  childe,  with  mani- 
fest unwillingness,  quitted  the  room,  and  the  Mar- 
grave, taking  his  lady's  place  at  the  head  of  the 
table,  whispered  to  Sir  Ludwig,  "  Hildebrandt  will 
be  here  to-night  to  an  evening  party,  given  in  honour 
of  your  return  from  Palestine.  My  good  friend — 
my  true  friend — my  old  companion  in  arms,  Sir 
Gottfried  !  you  had  best  see  that  the  fiddlers  be  not 
drunk,  and  that  the  crumpets  be  gotten  ready."  Sir 
Gottfried,  obsequiously  taking  his  patron's  hint, 
bowed  and  left  the  room. 

"  You  shall  know  all  soon,  dear  Ludwig,"  said 
the  Margrave,  with  a  heart-rending  look.  "  You 
marked  Gottfried,  who  left  the  room  anon  ?  " 

"  I  did." 

"  You  look  incredulous  concerning  his  worth ; 
but  I  tell  thee,  Ludwig,  that  yonder  Gottfried  is  a 
good  fellow,  and  my  fast  friend.  Why  should  he 
not  be  ?  He  is  my  near  relation,  heir  to  my  property  ; 
should  I  (here  the  Margrave's  countenance  assumed 
its  former  expression  of  excruciating  agony),  should 
I  have  no  son." 

"  But  I  never  saw  the  boy  in  better  health," 
replied  Sir  Ludwig. 


106  A    LEGEND   OF    THE    RHINE. 

"  Nevertheless,  ha,  ha  !  it  may  chance  that  I  shall 
soon  have  no  son." 

The  Margrave  had  crushed  many  a  cup  of  wine 
during  dinner,  and  Sir  Ludwig  thought  naturally 
that  his  gallant  friend  had  drunken  rather  deeply. 
He  proceeded  in  this  respect  to  imitate  him  :  for  the 
stern  soldier  of  those  days  neither  shrunk  before  the 
Paynim  nor  the  punch-bowl,  and  many  a  rousing 
night  had  our  crusader  enjoyed  in  Syria  with  lion- 
hearted  Richard;  with  his  coadjutor,  Godfrey  of 
Bouillon  ;  nay,  with  the  dauntless  Saladin  himself. 

"  You  knew  Gottfried  in  Palestine  ? "  asked  the 
Margrave. 

« I  did." 

"  Why  did  ye  not  greet  him,  then,  as  ancient 
comrades  should,  with  the  warm  grasp  of  friendship  ? 
It  is  not  because  Sir  Gottfried  is  poor  ?  You  know 
well  that  he  is  of  race  as  noble  as  thine  own,  my 
early  friend ! " 

"  I  care  not  for  his  race  nor  for  his  poverty,"  re- 
plied the  blunt  crusader.  "  What  says  the  Minne- 
singer ?  '  Marry,  that  the  rank  is  but  the  stamp  of 
the  guinea  ;  the  man  is  the  gold.'  And  I  tell  thee. 
Karl  of  Godesberg,  that  yonder  Gottfried  is  base 
metal." 

"By  Saint  Buffo,  thou  beliest  him,  dear  Lud- 
wig." 

"  By  Saint  Bugo,  dear  Karl,  I  say  sooth.     The 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  107 

fellow  was  known  i'  the  camp  of  the  crusaders — dis- 
reputably known.  Ere  he  joined  us  in  Palestine,  he 
had  sojourned  in  Constantinople,  and  learned  the 
arts  of  the  Greek,  He  is  a  cogger  of  dice,  I  tell 
thee — a  chanter  of  horse-flesh.  He  won  five  thou- 
sand marks  from  bluff  Richard  of  England,  the  night 
before  the  storming  of  Ascalon,  and  I  caught  him 
with  false  trumps  in  his  pocket.  He  warranted  a 
bay  mare  to  Conrad  of  Mont  Serrat,  and  the  rogue 
had  fired  her." 

"  Ha,  mean  ye  that  Sir  Gottfried  is  a  leg  ?  "  cried 
Sir  Karl,  knitting  his  brows.  "  Now,  by  my  blessed 
patron,  Saint  Buffo  of  Bonn,  had  any  other  but  Lud- 
wig  of  Hombourg,  so  said,  I  would  have  cloven  him 
from  skull  to  chine." 

"  By  Saint  Bugo  of  Katzenellenbogen,  I  will 
prove  my  words  on  Sir  Gottfried's  body — not  on 
thine,  old  brother  in  arms.  And  to  do  the  knave 
justice,  he  is  a  good  lance.  Holy  Bugo  !  but  he  did 
good  service  at  Acre !  But  his  character  was  such 
that,  spite  of  his  bravery,  he  was  dismissed  the  army, 
nor  ever  allowed  to  sell  his  captain's  commission." 

"  I  have  heard  of  it,"  said  the  Margrave  ;  "  Gott- 
fried hath  told  me  of  it.  'Twas  about  some  silly 
quarrel  over  the  wine-cup — a  mere  silly  jape,  believe 
me.  Hugo  de  Brodenel  would  have  no  black  bottle 
on  the  board.  Gottfried  was  wroth,  and  to  say  sooth, 
flung  the  black  bottle  at  the  County's  head.  Hence 


108  «    LEGEND    OF   THE    RHINE. 

his  dismission  and  abrupt  return.  But  you  know 
not,"  continued  the  Margrave  with  a  heavy  sigh,  "  of 
what  use  that  worthy  Gottfried  has  been  to  me.  He 
has  uncloaked  a  traitor  to  me." 

" Not  yet"  answered  Hombourg,  satirically. 

"  By  Saint  Buffo !  a  deep-dyed  dastard ;  a  dan- 
gerous, damnable  traitor  ! — a  nest  of  traitors.  Hil- 
debrandt  is  a  traitor — Otto  is  a  traitor — and  Theo- 
dora (oh,  Heaven !)  she — she  is  another."  The  old 
Prince  burst  into  tears  at  the  word,  and  was  almost 
choked  with  emotion. 

"  What  means  this  passion,  dear  friend  ?  "  cried 
Sir  Ludwig,  seriously  alarmed. 

"Mark,  Ludwig;  mark  Hildebrandt  and  Theo- 
dora together ;  mark  Hildebrandt  and  Otto  together. 
Like,  like  I  tell  thee  as  two  peas.  0  holy  saints, 
that  I  should  be  born  to  suffer  this  ! — to  have  all  my 
affections  wrenched  out  of  my  bosom,  and  to  be  left 
alone  in  my  old  age !  But,  hark !  the  guests  are 
arriving.  An  ye  will  not  empty  another  flask  of 
claret,  let  us  join  the  ladyes  i'  the  withdrawing 
chamber.  When  there,  mark  Hildebrandt  and 
Otto." 


A   LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  109 

CHAPTER  III. 

THE   FESTIVAL. 

THE  festival  was  indeed  begun.  Coming  on 
horseback,  or  in  their  caroches,  knights  and  ladies 
of  the  highest  rank  were  assembled  in  the  grand 
saloon  of  Godesberg,  which  was  splendidly  illumina- 
ted to  receive  them.  Servitors,  in  rich  liveries,  (they 
were  attired  in  doublets  of  the  sky-blue  broad-cloth 
of  Ypres,  and  hose  of  the  richest  yellow  sammit — 
the  colours  of  the  house  of  Godesberg,)  bore  about 
various  refreshments  on  trays  of  silver — cakes,  baked 
in  the  oven,  and  swimming  in  melted  butter ;  manch- 
ets  of  bread,  smeared  with  the  same  delicious  condi- 
ment, and  carved  so  thin  that  you  might  have 
expected  them  to  take  wing,  and  fly  to  the  ceiling ; 
coffee,  introduced  by  Peter  the  hermit,  after  his 
excursion  into  Arabia,  and  tea  such  as  only  Bohea- 
mia  could  produce,  circulated  amidst  the  festive 
throng,  and  were  eagerly  devoured  by  the  guests. 
The  Margrave's  gloom  was  unheeded  by  them — how 
little  indeed  is  the  smiling  crowd  aware  of  the  pangs 
that  are  lurking  in  the  breasts  of  those  who  bid  them 
to  the  feast !  The  Margravine  was  pale  ;  but  woman 
knows  how  to  deceive  ;  she  was  more  than  ordinarily 
courteous  to  her  friends,  and  laughed,  though  the 


110  A    LEGEND    OF   THE   RHINE. 

laugh  was  hollow,  and  talked,  though  the  talk  was 
loathsome  to  her. 

"  The  two  are  together,"  said  the  Margrave, 
clutching  his  friend's  shoulder.  "  Now  look." 

Sir  Ludwig  turned  towards  a  quadrille,  and  there, 
sure  enough,  were  Sir  Hildebrandt  and  young  Otto 
standing  side  by  side  in  the  dance.  Two  eggs  were 
not  more  like  !  The  reason  of  the  Margrave's  horrid 
suspicion  at  once  flashed  across  his  friend's  mind. 

"  'Tis  clear  as  the  staff  of  a  pike,"  said  the  poor 
Margrave,  mournfully.  "  Come,  brother,  away  from 
the  scene  ;  let  us  go  play  a  game  at  cribbage  !  "  and 
retiring  to  the  Margravine's  boudoir,  the  two  warriors 
sat  down  to  the  game. 

But  though  'tis  an  interesting  one,  and  though 
the  Margrave  won,  yet  he  could  not  keep  his  atten- 
tion on  the  cards ;  so  agitated  was  his  mind  by  the 
dreadful  secret  which  weighed  upon  it.  In  the  midst 
of  their  play,  the  obsequious  Gottfried  came  to 
whisper  a  word  in  his  patron's  ear,  which  threw 
the  latter  into  such  a  fury,  that  apoplexy  was  appre- 
hended by  the  two  lookers  on.  But  the  Margrave 
mastered  his  emotion.  "At  what  time,  did  you 
say  ?  "  said  he,  to  Gottfried. 

"  At  day-break,  at  the  outer  gate." 

"I  will  be  there." 

"  And  so  will  I  too,"  thought  Count  Ludwig,  the 
good  knight  of  Hombourg. 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  Ill 


CHAPTER  IV. 

How  often  does  man,  proud  man,  make  calcula- 
tions for  the  future,  and  think  he  can  bend  stern  fate 
to  his  will !  Alas,  we  are  but  creatures  in  its  hands  ! 
How  many  a  slip  between  the  lip  and  the  lifted  wine- 
cup  !  How  often,  though  seemingly  with  a  choice  of 
couches  to  repose  upon,  do  we  find  ourselves  dashed 
to  earth ;  and  then  we  are  fain  to  say  the  grapes  are 
sour,  because  we  cannot  attain  them  ;  or  worse,  to 
yield  to  anger  in  consequence  of  our  own  fault.  Sir 
Ludwig,  the  Hombourger,  was  not  at  the  outer  gate 
at  day-break. 

He  slept  until  ten  of  the  clock.  The  previous 
night's  potations  had  been  heavy,  the  day's  journey 
had  been  long  and  rough.  The  knight  slept  as  a 
soldier  would,  to  whom  a  feather-bed  is  a  rarity,  and 
who  wakes  not  till  he  hears  the  blast  of  the  reveille. 

He  looked  up  as  he  woke.  At  his  bed-side  sat 
the  Margrave.  He  had  been  there  for  hours  watch- 
ing his  slumbering  comrade.  Watching? — no,  not 
watching,  but  awake  by  his  side,  brooding  over 
thoughts  unutterably  bitter — over  feelings  inexpress- 
ibly wretched. 

"  What's  o'clock  1  "  was  the  first  natural  exclama- 
tion of  the  Hombourger. 


112  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

» 

"  I  believe  it  is  five  o'clock,"  said  his  friend.  It 
was  ten.  It  might  have  been  twelve,  two,  half-past 
four,  twenty  minutes  to  six,  the  Margrave  would  still 
have  said,  "/  believe  it  is  five  o'clock."  The  wretched 
take  no  count  of  time,  it  flies  with  unequal  pinions, 
indeed,  for  them." 

"  Is  breakfast  over  ?  "  inquired  the  crusader. 

"  Ask  the  butler,"  said  the  Margrave,  nodding 
his  head  wildly,  rolling  his  eyes  wildly,  smiling  wildly. 

"  Gracious  Buffo  !  "  said  the  knight  of  Hoinbourg, 
"  what  has  ailed  thee,  my  friend  1  It  is  ten  o'clock 
by  my  horologe.  Your  regular  hour  is  nine.  You 
are  not — no,  by  Heavens  !  you  are  not  shaved  !  You 
wear  the  tights  and  silken  hose  of  last  evening's 
banquet.  Your  collar  is  all  rumpled — 'tis  that  of 
yesterday.  You  have  not  been,  to  bed  ?  What  has 
chanced,  brother  of  mine,  what  has  chanced  ?  " 

"  A  common  chance,  Louis  of  Hombourg,"  said 
the  Margrave,  "  one  that  chances  every  day.  A  false 
woman,  a  false  friend,  a  broken  heart.  This  has 
chanced.  I  have  not  been  to  bed." 

"  What  mean  ye  ?  "  cried  Count  Ludwig,  deeply 
affected.  "  A  false  friend  ?  /  am  not  a  false  friend 
— a  false  woman.  Surely  the  lovely  Theodora  your 
wife"— 

"  I  have  no  wife,  Louis,  now ;  I  have  no  wife  and 
no  son." 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  113 

In  accents  broken  by  grief,  the  Margrave  explain- 
ed what  had  occurred.  Gottfried's  information  was 
but  too  correct.  There  was  a  cause  for  the  likeness 
between  Otto  and  Sir  Hildebrandt ;  a  fatal  cause  J 
Hildebrandt  and  Theodora  had  met  at  dawn  at  the 
outer  gate.  The  Margrave  had  seen  them.  They 
walked  long  together  ;  they  embraced.  Ah  f  how 
the  husband's,  the  father's,  feelings  were  harrowed  at 
that  embrace  !  They  parted ;  and  then  the  Mar- 
grave coming  forward,  coldly  signified  to  his  lady 
that  she  was  to  retire  to  a  convent  for  life,  and  gave 
orders  that  the  boy  should  be  sent  too,  to  take  the 
vows  at  a  monastery. 

Both  sentences  had  been  executed.  Otto,  in  a 
boat,  and  guarded  by  a  company  of  his  father's  men- 
at-arms,  was  on  the  river  going  towards  Cologne  to 
the  monastery  of  Saint  Buffo  there.  The  lady  Theo- 
dora, under  the  guard  of  Sir  Gottfried  and  an  attend- 
ant, were  on  their  way  to  the  convent  of  Nonnen- 
werth,  which  many  of  our  readers  have  seen — the 
beautiful  Green  Island  Convent,  laved  by  the  bright 
waters  of  the  Rhine ! 

"What  road  did  Gottfried  take?"  asked  the 
knight  of  Hombourg,  grinding  his  teeth. 

"  You  cannot  overtake  him,"  said  the  Margrave. 
"  My  good  Gottfried,  he  is  my  only  comfort,  now ; 
he  is  my  kinsman,  and  shall  be  my  heir.  He  will  be 
back  anon." 


114  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

"  Will  he  so  ?  "  thought  Sir  Ludwig.  "  I  will  ask 
him  a  few  questions  ere  he  return."  And  springing 
from  his  couch,  he  began  forthwith  to  put  on  his  usual 
morning  dress  of  complete  armour ;  and,  after  a  hasty 
ablution,  donned  not  his  cap  of  maintenance,  but  his 
helmet  of  battle.  He  rang  the  bell  violently. 

"A  cup  of  coffee,  straight,"  said  he,  to  the  servi- 
tor, who  answered  the  summons  ;  "  bid  the  cook  pack 
me  a  sausage  and  bread  in  paper,  and  the  groom 
saddle  Streithengst ;  we  have  far  to  ride." 

The  various  orders  were  obeyed.  The  horse  was 
brought ;  the  refreshments  disposed  of ;  the  clatter- 
ing steps  of  the  departing  steed  were  heard  in  the 
court-yard ;  but  the  Margrave  took  no  notice  of  his 
friend,  and  sat,  plunged  in  silent  grief,  quite  motion- 
less by  the  empty  bed-side. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   TRAITOR'S   DOOM 


THE  Hombourger  led  his  horse  down  the  winding 
path  which  conducts  from  the  hill  and  castle  of  Goden- 
berg  into  the  beautiful  green  plain  below.  Who  has  not 
seen  that  lovely  plain,  and  who  that  has  seen  it  has 
not  loved  it  ?  A  thousand  sunny  vineyards  and 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  115 

cornfields  stretch  around  in  peaceful  luxuriance ;  the 
mighty  Rhine  floats  by  it  in  silver  magnificence,  and 
on  the  opposite  bank  rise  the  seven  mountains  robed 
in  majestic  purple,  the  monarchs  of  the  royal  scene. 

A  pleasing  poet,  Lord  Byron,  in  describing  this 
very  scene,  has  mentioned  that  "  peasant  girls,  with 
dark  blue  eyes,  and  hands  that  offer  cake  and  wine" 
are  perpetually  crowding  round  the  traveller  in  this 
delicious  district,  and  proffering  to  him  their  rustic 
presents.  This  was  no  doubt  the  case  in  former  days, 
when  the  noble  bard  wrote  his  elegant  poems — in 
the  happy  ancient  days  !  when  maidens  were  as  yet 
generous,  and  men  kindly !  Now  the  degenerate 
peasantry  of  the  district  are  much  more  inclined  to 
ask  than  to  give,  and  their  blue  eyes  to  have  disap- 
peared with  their  generosity. 

But  as  it  was  a  long  time  ago  that  the  events  of 
our  story  occurred,  'tis  probable  that  the  good  knight 
Ludwig  of  Hombourg  was  greeted  upon  his  path  by 
this  fascinating  peasantry,  though  we  know  not  how 
he  accepted  their  welcome.  He  continued  his  ride 
across  the  flat  green  country,  until  he  came  to  Ho 
landseck,  whence  he  could  command  the  Island  of 
Nonnenwerth  (that  lies  in  the  Rhine  opposite  that 
place),  and  all  who  went  to  it  or  passed  from  it. 

Over  the  entrance  of  a  little  cavern  in  one  of  the 
rocks  hanging  obove  the  Rhine-stream  at  Rolandseck. 
and  covered  with  odoriferous  cactuses  and  silvery 


116  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

magnolia,  the  traveller  of  the  present  day  may  per- 
ceive a  rude  broken  image  of  a  saint ;  that  image  re- 
presented the  venerable  Saint  Buffo  of  Bonn,  the  pat- 
ron of  the  Margrave,  and  Sir  Ludwig  kneeling  on  the 
greensward,  and  reciting  a  censer,  an  ave,  and  a 
couple  of  acolytes  before  it,  felt  encouraged  to  think 
that  the  deed  he  meditated  was  about  to  be  performed 
under  the  very  eyes  of  his  friend's  sanctified  patron. 
His  devotion  done  (and  the  knight  of  those  days  was 
as  pious  as  he  was  brave),  Sir  Louis,  the  gallant 
Hombourger,  exclaimed  with  a  loud  voice  : 

"Ho  !  hermit !  holy  hermit,  art  thou  in  thy  cell  ?  " 

"  Who  calls  the  poor  servant  of  Heaven  and  Saint 
Buffo  ? "  exclaimed  a  voice  from  the  cavern ;  and 
presently,  from  beneath  the  wreaths  of  geranium  and 
magnolia,  appeared  an  intensely  venerable,  ancient, 
and  majestic  head — 'twas  that,  we  need  not  say,  of 
Saint  Buffo's  solitary.  A  silver  beard  hanging  to  his 
knees  gave  his  person  an  appearance  of  great  respec- 
tability ;  his  body  was  robed  in  simple  brown  serge, 
and  girt  with  a  knotted  cord ;  his  ancient  feet  were 
only  defended  from  the  prickles  and  stones  by  the 
rudest  sandals,  and  his  bald  and  polished  head  was 
bare. 

"  Holy  hermit,"  said  the  knight,  in  a  grave  voice, 
"  make  ready  thy  ministry,  for  there  is  some  one 
about  to  die." 

"Where,  son?" 


A    LEGEND    OF   THE    RHINE.  117 

"Here,  father." 

"  Is  he  here,  now  ?  " 

"  Perhaps,"  said  the  stout  warrior,  crossing  him- 
self, "  but  not  so  if  right  prevail."  At  this  moment, 
he  caught  sight  of  a  ferry-boat  putting  off  from  Non- 
nenwerth,  with  a  knight  on  board.  Ludwig  knew  at 
once  by  the  sinople  reversed,  and  the  truncated  gules 
on  his  surcoat,  that  it  was  Sir  Gottfried  of  Godes- 
berg. 

"  Be  ready,  father,"  said  the  good  knight,  point- 
ing towards  the  advancing  boat;  and,  waving  his 
hand,  by  way  of  respect,  to  the  reverend  hermit,  and 
without  a  further  word,  he  vaulted  into  his  saddle, 
and  rode  back  for  a  few  score  of  paces,  where  he 
wheeled  round,  and  remained  steady.  His  great  lance 
and  pennon  rose  in  the  air.  His  armour  glistened  in 
the  sun ;  the  chest  and  head  of  his  battle-horse  were 
similarly  covered  with  steel.  As  Sir  Gottfried,  like- 
wise armed  and  mounted  (for  his  horse  had  been  left 
at  the  ferry  hard  by),  advanced  up  the  road,  he  al- 
most started  at  the  figure  before  him — a  glistening 
tower  of  steel. 

"  Are  you  the  lord  of  this  pass,  Sir  Knight  ?  "  said 
Sir  Gottfried,  haughtily,  "  or  do  you  hold  it  against 
all  comers,  in  honour  of  your  lady-love  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  the  lord  of  this  pass.  I  do  not  hold  it 
against  all  comers.  I  hold  it  but  against  one.  and  he 
is  a  liar  and  a  traitor." 


118  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

"  As  the  matter  concerns  me  not.  I  pray  you  let 
me  pass."  said  Gottfried. 

"  The  matter  does  concern  thee,  Gottfried  of  God- 
esberg.  Liar,  and  traitor  !  art  thou  coward,  too  ?  " 

"  Holy  Saint  Buffo  !  'tis  a  fight !  "  exclaimed  the 
old  hermit  (who,  too,  had  been  a  gallant  warrior  in 
his  day) ;  and  like  the  old  war-horse  that  hears  the 
trumpet's  sound,  and  spite  of  his  clerical  profession, 
he  prepared  to  look  on  at  the  combat  with  no 
ordinary  eagerness,  and  sat  down  on  the  overhanging 
ledge  of  the  rock,  lighting  his  pipe,  and  affecting  un- 
concern, but  in  reality  most  deeply  interested  in  the 
event  which  was  about  to  ensue. 

As  soon  as  the  word  "  coward"  had  been  pro- 
nounced by  Sir  Ludwig,  his  opponent,  uttering  a  curse 
far  too  horrible  to  be  inscribed  here,  had  wheeled 
back  his  powerful  piebald,  and  brought  his  lance  to 
the  rest. 

"  Ha  !  Beause"ant !"  cried  he.  "  Allah  humdil- 
lah  !"  'Twas  the  battle-cry  in  Palestine  of  the  irre- 
sistible knights-hospitallers.  "  Look  to  thyself,  Sir 
Knight,  and  for  mercy  from  Heaven  !  /will  give 
thee  none." 

"  A  Bugo  for  Katzenellenbogen  !  "  exclaimed  Sir 
Ludwig,  piously  ;  that,  too,  was  the  well-known  war- 
cry  of  his  princely  race. 

"  I  will  give  the  signal,"  said  the  old  hermit,  waving 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  119 

his  pipe.  "  Knights,  are  you  ready  ?  One,  two, 
three.  Los!"  (let  go.) 

At  the  signal,  the  two  steeds  tore  up  the  ground 
like  whirlwinds ;  the  two  knights,  two  flashing  per- 
pendicular masses  of  steel,  rapidly  converged ;  the 
two  lances  met  upon  the  two  shields  of  either,  and 
shivered,  splintered,  shattered  into  ten  hundred  thou- 
sand pieces,  which  whirled  through  the  air  here  and 
there,  among  the  rocks,  or  in  the  trees,  or  in  the  river. 
The  two  horses  fell  back  trembling  on  their  haunches, 
where  they  remained  for  half  a  minute  or  so. 

"  Holy  Buffo  !  a  brave  stroke  !  "  said  the  old  her- 
mit. "  Marry,  but  a  splinter  well  nigh  took  off  my 
nose  !  "  The  honest  hermit  waved  his  pipe  in  delight, 
not  perceiving  that  one  of  the  splinters  had  carried  off 
the  head  of  it,  and  rendered  his  favourite  amusement 
impossible.  "  Ha  !  they  are  to  it  again  !  Oh,  my  ! 
how  they  go  to  with  their  great  swords  !  Well  strick- 
en, grey  !  Well  parried,  piebald  !  Ha,  that  was  a 
slicer  !  Go  it,  piebald  !  go  it,  grey  ! — go  it,  grey  ! 
go  it,  pie  *  *  *.  Peccavi !  peccavi !  "  said  the 
old  man,  here  suddenly  closing  his  eyes,  and  falling 
down  on  his  knees.  "  I  forgot  I  was  a  man  of  peace  ;  " 
and  the  next  moment,  muttering  a  hasty  matin,  he 
sprung  down  the  ledge  of  rock,  and  was  by  the  side 
of  the  combatants. 

The  battle  was  over.  Good  knight  as  Sir  Gottfried 
was,  his  strength  and  skill  had  not  been  able  to  over- 


I '20  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

come  Sir  Ludwig  the  Hombourger,  with  RIGHT  on  his 
side.  He  was  bleeding  at  every  point  of  his  armour: 
he  had  been  run  through  the  body  several  times,  and  a 
cut  in  tierce,  delivered  with  tremendous  dexterity, 
had  cloven  the  crown  of  his  helmet  of  Damascus 
steel,  and  passing  through  the  cerebellum  and  senso- 
rium,  had  split  his  nose  almost  in  twain. 

His  mouth  foaming — his  face  almost  green — his 
eyes  full  of  blood — his  brains  spattered  over  his  fore- 
.  head,  and  several  of  his  teeth  knocked  out, — the  dis- 
comfited warrior  presented  a  ghastly  spectacle ;  as 
reeling  under  the  effect  of  the  last  blow  which  the 
knight  of  Hombourg  dealt,  Sir  Gottfried  fell  heavily 
from  the  saddle  of  his  piebald  charger ;  the  fright- 
ened animal  whisked  his  tail  wildly  with  a  shriek 
and  a  snort,  plunged  out  his  hind  legs,  trampling  for 
one  moment  upon  the  feet  of  the  prostrate  Gott- 
fried, thereby  causing  him  to  shriek  with  agony,  and 
then  galloped  away  riderless. 

Away  !  aye,  away  ! — away  amid  the  green  vine- 
yards and  golden  cornfields  ;  away  up  the  steep  moun- 
tains, where  he  frightened  the  eagles  in  their  eyries ; 
nway  down  the  clattering  ravines,  where  the  flashing 
c.-ataracts  tumble ;  away  through  the  dark  pine  forests 
where  the  hungry  wolves  are  howling ;  away  over  the 
dreary  wolds,  where  the  wild  wind  walks  alone  ;  away 
through  the  plashing  quagmires,  where  the  will-o'- 
the  wisps  slunk  frightened  among  the  .reeds ;  away 


A    LEGEND    OP    THE    RHINE,  121 

through  light  and  darkness,  storm  and  sunshine  ;  away 
by  tower  and  town,  highroad  and  hamlet.  Once  a 
turn  pike-man  would  have  detained  him  ;  but,  ha,  ha  ! 
he  charged  the  'pike,  and  cleared  it  at  a  bound. 
Once  the  Cologne  Diligence  stopped  the  way ;  he 
charged  the  Diligence,  he  knocked  off  the  cap  of  the 
conductor  on  the  roof,  and  yet  galloped  wildly,  mad- 
ly, furiously,  irresistibly  on !  Brave  horse  !  gallant 
steed  !  snorting  child  of  Araby  !  On  went  the  horse, 
over  mountains,  rivers,  turnpikes,  applewomen ;  and 
never  stopped  until  he  reached  a  livery-stable  in  Co- 
logne, where  his  master  was  accustomed  to  put  him  up. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE       CONFESSION. 

BUT  we  have  forgotten,  meanwhile,  that  prostrate 
individual.  Having  examined  the  wounds  in  his  side, 
legs,  head,  and  throat,  the  old  hermit  (a  skilful  leech) 
knelt  down  by  the  side  of  the  vanquished  one,  and 
said,  "  Sir  Knight,  it  is  my  painful  duty  to  state  to 
you  that  you  are  in  an*  exceedingly  dangerous  condi- 
tion, and  will  not  probably  survive." 

'  Say  you  so,  Sir  Priest  ?  then  'tis  time  I  make 


122  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

my  confession — hearken  you,  priest,  and  you,  Sir 
Knight,  whoever  you  be." 

Sir  Ludwig  (who,  much  affected  by  the  scene,  had 
been  tying  his  horse  up  to  a  tree)  lifted  his  visor 
and  said,  "  Gottfried  of  Godesberg !  I  am  the  friend 
of  thy  kinsman.  Margrave  Karl,  whose  happiness  thou 
hast  ruined ;  I  am  the  friend  of  his  chaste  and 
virtuous  lady,  whose  fair  fame  thou  hast  belied;  I 
am  the  godfather  of  young  Count  Otto,  whose  heri- 
tage thou  wouldst  basely  have  appropriated — there- 
fore I  met  thee  in  deadly  fight,  and  overcame  thee. 
and  have  well  nigh  finished  thee.  Speak  on." 

"  I  have  done  all  this,"  said  the  dying  man.  u  and 
here,  in  my  last  hour,  repent  me.  The  Lady  Theo- 
dora is  a  spotless  lady  ;  the  youthful  Otto  the  true 
son  of  his  father — Sir  Hildebrandt  is  not  his  father, 
but  his  uncle." 

t:  Gracious  Buffo  !  Celestial  Bugo  !  "  here  said 
the  hermit  and  the  knight  of  Hombourg  simultane- 
ously, clasping  their  hands. 

"  Yes,  his  uncle,  but  with  the  bar -sinister  in  his 
'scutcheon.  Hence  he  could  never  be  acknowledged 
by  the  family ;  hence,  too,  the  Lady  Theodora's  spot- 
less purity  (though  the  young  people  had  been  brought 
up  together)  could  never  be  bfought  to  own  the  rela- 
tionship." 

"  May  I  repeat  your  confession  ? "  asked  the 
hermit. 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  123 

"  With  the  greatest  pleasure  in  life — carry  my 
confession  to  the  Margrave,  and  pray  him  give  me 
pardon.  Were  there — a  notary-public  present,"  slow- 
ly gasped  the  knight,  the  film  of  dissolution  glazing 
over  his  eyes,  "  I  would  ask — you — two — gentlemen 
to  witness  it.  I  would  gladly — sign  the  deposition, 
that  is  if  I  could  wr-wr-wr-wr-ite  !  "  A  faint  shud- 
dering smile — a  quiver,  a  gasp,  a  gurgle — the  blood 
gushed  from  his  mouth  in  black  volumes  *  * 

"  He  will  never  sin  more,"  said  the  Hermit, 
solemnly. 

"  May  Heaven  assoilzie  him  !  "  said   Sir  Ludwig 
"  Hermit,  he  was  a  gallant  knight.      He  died  with 
harness   on  his  back,  and   with   truth   on   his  lips ; 
Ludwig  of  Hombourg  would  ask  no  other  death." 
***** 

An  hour  afterwards  the  principal  servants  at  the 
Castle  of  Godesberg  were  rather  surprised  to  see  the 
noble  Lord  Louis  trot  into  the  court-yard  of  the 
castle,  with  a  companion  on  the  crupper  of  his  saddle. 
'Twas  the  venerable  hermit  of  Rolandseck,  who,  for 
the  sake  of  greater  celerity,  had  adopted  this  undig- 
nified conveyance,  and  whose  appearance  and  little 
dumpy  legs  might  well  create  hilarity  among  the 
'•  pampered  menials"  wno  are  always  found  lounging 
about  the  houses  of  the  great.  He  skipped  off  the 
saddle  with  considerable  lightness  however ;  and  Sir 
Ludwig.  taking  the  reverend  man  by  the  arm,  and 


124  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

frowning  the  jeering  servitors  into  awe,  bade  them 
lead  him  to  the  presence  of  his  Highness  the  Mar- 
grave. 

"  What  has  chanced  ?  "  said  the  inquisitive  servi- 
tor ;  "  the  riderless  horse  of  Sir  Gottfried  was  seen 
to  gallop  by  the  outer  wall  anon.  The  Margrave's 
Grace  has  never  quitted  your  Lordship's  chamber, 
and  sits  as  one  distraught." 

"  Hold  thy  prate,  knave,  and  lead  us  on."  And 
so  saying,  the  knight  and  his  Reverence  moved  into 
the  well-known  apartment,  where,  according  to  the 
servitor's  description,  the  wretched  Margrave  sat 
like  a  stone. 

Ludwig  took  one  of  the  kind  broken-hearted 
man's  hands,  the  hermit  seized  the  other,  and  began 
(but  on  account  of  his  great  age,  with  a  prolixity 
which  we  shall  not  endeavour  to  imitate)  to  narrate 
the  events  which  we  have  already  described.  Let 
the  dear  reader  fancy,  the  while  his  Reverence  speaks, 
the  glazed  eyes  of  the  Margrave  gradually  lighting 
up  with  attention ;  the  flush  of  joy  which  mantles  in 
his  countenance — the  start — the  throb — the  almost 
delirious  outburst  of  hysteric  exultation  with  which. 
when  the  whole  truth  was  made  known,  he  clasped 
the  two  messengers  of  glad  tidings  to  his  breast,  with 
an  energy  that  almost  choked  the  aged  recluse ! 
''  Ride,  ride  this  instant  to  the  Margravine — say  I 
have  wronged  her,  that  it  is  all  right,  that  she  may 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  125 

come  back — that  I  forgive  her — that  I  apologise  if 
you  will "  — and  a  secretary  forthwith  despatched  a 
note  to  that  effect,  which  was  carried  off  by  a  fleet 
messenger. 

"  Now  write  to  the  Superior  of  the  monastery  at 
Cologne,  and  bid  him  send  me  back  my  boy,  my 
darling,  my  Otto — my  Otto  of  roses  !  "  said  the  fond 
father,  making  the  first  play  upon  words  he  had  ever 
attempted  in  his  life.  But  what  will  not  paternal 
love  effect?  The  secretary  (smiling  at  the  joke) 
wrote  another  letter,  and  another  fleet  messenger 
was  despatched  on  another  horse. 

"  And  now."  said  Sir  Ludwig,  playfully,  "  let  us 
to  lunch.  Holy  Hermit,  are  you  for  a  snack  ?  " 

The  Hermit  could  not  say  nay  on  an  occasion  so 
festive,  and  the  three  gentles  seated  themselves  to  a 
plenteous  repast,  for  which  the  remains  of  the  feast 
of  yesterday  offered,  it  need  not  be  said,  ample 
means. 

"  They  will  be  home  by  dinner-time,"  said  the 
exulting  father,  "  Ludwig  !  reverend  hermit !  We 
will  carry  on  till  then  ;  "  and  the  cup  passed  gaily 
round,  and  the  laugh  and  jest  circulated,  while  the 
three  happy  friends  sat  confidentially  awaiting  the 
return  of  the  Margravine  and  her  son. 

But  alas  !  said  we  not  rightly  at  the  commence- 
ment of  a  former  chapter,  that  betwixt  the  lip  and 
the  raised  wine-cup  there  is  often  many  a  spill  ?  that 


126  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 


our  hopes  are  high,  and  often,  too  often  vain  ?  About 
three  hours  after  the  departure  of  the  first  messenger, 
he  returned,  and  with  an  exceedingly  long  face  knelt 
down  and  presented  to  the  Margrave  a  billet  to  the 
following  effect : 

"CONVENT  OK  NOXNE.VWEKTH,  Friday  Afternoon. 

"  SIR  :  I  have  submitted  too  long  to  your  ill- 
usage,  and  am  disposed  to  bear  it  no  more.  I  will 
no  longer  be  made  the  butt  of  your  ribald  satire,  and 
the  object  of  your  coarse  abuse.  Last  weeM  you 
threatened  me  with  your  cane  !  On  Tufesday  last 
you  threw  a  wine-decanter  at  me.  which  hit  the 
butler  it  is  true,  but  the  intention  was  evident. 
This  morning,  in  the  presence  of  all  the  servants. 
you  called  me  by  the  most  vile,  abominable  name, 
which,  Heaven  forbid  I  should  repeat !  You  dis- 
missed me  from  your  house  under  a  false  accusation. 
You  sent  me  to  this  odious  convent  to  be  immured 
for  life.  Be  it  so,  I  will  not  come  back,  because 
forsooth,  you  relent.  Anything  is  better  than  a  resi- 
dence with  a  wicked,  coarse,  violent,  intoxicated, 
brutal  monster  like  yourself.  I  remain  here  for 
ever,  and  blush  to  be  obliged  to  sign  myself 

"  THEODORA  VON  GODESBERG." 

"  P.S.  I  hope  you  do  not  intend  to  keep  all  my 
best  gowns,  jewels,  and  wearing  apparel :  and  make 
no  doubt  you  dismissed  me  from  your  house  in  order 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  127 

to   make  way  for   some  vile   hussy,  whose   eyes   I 

would  like  to  tear  out. 

"  T.  V.  G." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  singular  document,  illustrative  of  the  pas- 
sions of  women  at  all  times,  and  particularly  of  the 
manners  of  the  early  ages,  struck  dismay  into  the 
heart  of  the  Margrave. 

"  Are  her  ladyship's  insinuations  correct?  "  asked 
the  Hermit  in  a  severe  tone.  "To  correct  a  wife 
with  a  cane  is  a  venial,  I  may  say  a  justifiable  prac- 
tice ;  but  to  fling  a  bottle  at  her.  is  a  ruin  both  to 
the  liquor  and  to  her." 

';  But  she  sent  a  carving-knife  at  me  first."  said 
the  heart-broken  husband.  "  Oh,  jealousy,  cursed 
jealousy,  why.  why  did  I  ever  listen  to  thy  green 
and  yellow  tongue  ?  " 

"  They  quarrelled,  but  they  loved  each  other  sin- 
cerely," whispered  Sir  Ludwig  to  the  Hermit,  who 
began  to  deliver  forthwith  a  lecture  upon  family  dis- 
cord and  marital  authority,  which  would  have  sent 
his  two  hearers  to  sleep,  but  for  the  arrival  of  the 
second  messenger,  whom  the  Margrave  had  despatch- 
ed to  Cologne  for  his  son.  This  herald  wore  a  still 


128          A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 

longer  face  than  that  of  his  comrade  who  preceded 
him. 

"  Where  is  my  darling  ?  "  roared  the  agonized 
parent.  "  Have  ye  brought  him  with  ye  ?  ** 

"  N — no,"  said  the  man,  hesitating. 

"  I  will  flog  the  knave  soundly  when  he  comes," 
cried  the  father,  vainly  endeavouring,  under  an  ap- 
pearance of  sternness,  to  hide  his  inward  emotion  and 
tenderness. 

"  Please  your  highness,"  said  the  messenger,  mak- 
ing a  desperate  effort,  "  Count  Otto  is  not  at  the 
Convent." 

"  Know  ye,  knaver  where  he  is  ?  " 

The  swain'  solemnly  said,  "  I  do.  He  is  there." 
He  pointed  as  he  spake  to  the  broad  Rhine  that  was 
seen  from  the  casement,  lighted  up  by  the  magnifi- 
cent hues  of  sunset. 

"  There !  How  mean  ye  there  ?  "  gasped  the  Mar- 
grave, wrought  to  a  pitch  of  nervous  fury. 

"  Alas  !  my  good  lord,  when  he  was  in  the  boat 
which  was  to  conduct  him  to  the  Convent,  he — he 
jumped  suddenly  from  it,  and  is  dr — dr — owned." 

"  Carry  that  knave  out  and  hang  him  !  "  said  the 
Margrave,  with  a  calmness  more  dreadful  than  any 
outburst  of  rage.  "  Let  every  man  of  the  boat's 
crew  be  blown  from  the  mouth  of  the  cannon  on  the 
tower — except  the  coxswain,  and  let  him  be  *  *  " 

What  was  to  be  done  with  the  coxswain,  no  one 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 


knows  ;  for  at  that  moment,  and  overcome  by  his 
emotion,  the  Margrave  sunk  down  lifeless  on  the 
floor. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  CHILDE  OF  GODESBERG. 

IT  must  be  clear  to  the  dullest  intellect  (if 
amongst  our  dear  readers  we  dare  venture  to  pre- 
sume that  a  dull  intellect  should  be  found),  that  the 
cause  of  the  Margrave's  fainting  fit,  described  in  the 
last  chapter,  was  a  groundless  apprehension,  on  the 
part  of  that  too  solicitous  and  credulous  nobleman, 
regarding  the  fate  of  his  beloved  child.  No,  young 
Otto  was  not  drowned.  Was  ever  hero  of  romantic 
story  done  to  death  so  early  in  the  tale  ?  Young 
Otto  was  not  drowned.  Had  such  been  the  case,  the 
Lord  Margrave  would  infallibly  have  died  at  the 
close  of  the  last  chapter  ;  and  a  few  gloomy  sentences 
at  its  close  would  have  denoted  how  the  lovely  Lady 
Theodora  became  insane  in  the  Convent,  and  how 
Sir  Ludwig  determined,  upon  the  demise  of  the  old 
hermit  (consequent  upon  the  shock  of  hearing  the 
news),  to  retire  to  the  vacant  hermitage,  and  assume 
the  robe,  the  beard,  the  mortifications  of  the  late 

venerable  and   solitary  ecclesiastic.     Otto   was   not 
6* 


130  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    KHINE. 


drowned,  and  all  those  personages  of  our  history  are 
consequently  alive  and  well. 

The  boat  containing  the  amazed  young  Count — 
for  he  knew  not  the  cause  of  his  father's  anger,  and 
hence  rebelled  against  the  unjust  sentence  which  the 
Margrave  had  uttered — had  not  rowed  many  miles, 
when  the  gallant  boy  rallied  from  his  temporary  sur- 
prise and  despondency,  and,  determined  not  to  be  a 
slave  in  any  convent  of  any  order,  determined  to 
make  a  desperate  effort  for  escape.  At  a  moment 
when  the  men  were  pulling  hard  against  the  tide, 
and  Kuno,  the  coxswain,  was  looking  carefully  to 
steer  the  barge,  between  some  dangerous  rocks  and 
quicksands,  which  are  frequently  met  with  in  the 
majestic  though  dangerous  river.  Otto  gave  a  sudden 
spring  from  the  boat,  and  with  one  single  flounce  was 
in  the  boiling,  frothing,  swirling  eddy  of  the  stream. 

Fancy  the  agony  of  the  crew  at  the  disappearance 
of  their  young  lord  !  All  loved  him ;  all  would 
have  given  their  lives  for  him  ;  but  as  they  did  not 
know  how  to  swim,  of  course  they  declined  to  make 
any  useless  plunges  in  search  of  him,  and  stood  on 
their  oars  in  mute  wonder  and  grief.  Once,  his  fair 
head  and  golden  ringlets  were  seen  to  arise  from  the 
water  ;  twice,  puffing  and  panting,  it  appeared  for  an 
instant  again ;  thrice,  it  arose  but  for  one  single  mo- 
ment :  it  was  the  last  chance,  and  it  sunk,  sunk,  sunk. 
Knowing  the  reception  they  would  meet  with  from 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  131 

their  liege  lord,  the  men  naturally  did  not  go  home 
to  Godesberg,  but  putting  in  at  the  first  creek  on  the 
opposite  bank,  fled  into  the  Duke  of  Nassau's  territo- 
ry, where,  as  they  have  little  to  do  with  our  tale,  we 
will  leave  them. 

But  they  little  knew  how  expert  a  swimmer  was 
young  Otto.  He  had  disappeared  it  is  true  ;  but 
why  ?  because  he  had  dived.  He  calculated  that  his 
conductors  would  consider  him  drowned,  and  the  de- 
sire of  liberty  lending  him  wings,  or  we  had  rather 
say^/?ns,  in  this  instance,  the  gallant  boy  swam  on  be- 
neath the  water,  never  lifting  his  head  for  a  single 
moment  between  Godesberg  and  Cologne — the  dis- 
tance being  twenty-five  or  thirty  miles. 

Escaping  from  observation,  he  landed  on  the  Deutz 
side  of  the  river,  repaired  to  a  comfortable  and  quiet 
hostel  there,  saying  he  had  had  an  accident  from  a 
boat,  and  thus  accounting  for  the  moisture  of  his  ha- 
biliments, and  while  these  were  drying  before  a  fire 
in  his  chamber  went  snugly  to  bed,  where  he  mused, 
not  without  amaze  of  the  strange  events  of  the  day. 
14  This  morning."  thought  he,  "  a  noble  and  heir  to  a 
princely  estate — this  evening  an  outcast,  with  but  a 
few  bank-notes  which  my  mamma  luckily  gave  me  on 
my  birth-day.  What  a  strange  entry  into  life  is  this 
for  a  young  man  of  my  family  !  Well,  I  have  cou- 
rage and  resolution  ;  my  first  attempt  in  life  has  been 
a  gallant  and  successful  one;  other  dangers  will  be 


132  A    LEGEND    OF   THE   RHINE. 

conquered  by  similar  bravery."  And  recommending 
himself,  his  unhappy  mother,  and  his  mistaken  father 
to  the  care  of  their  patron  saint,  Saint  Buffo,  the  gal- 
lant-hearted boy  fell  presently  into  such  a  sleep,  as 
only  the  young,  the  healthy,  the  innocent,  and  the 
extremely  fatigued  can  enjoy. 

The  fatigues  of  the  day  (and  very  few  men  but 
would  be  fatigued  after  swimming  well  nigh  thirty 
miles  under  water)  caused  young  Otto  to  sleep  so 
profoundly,  that  he  did  not  remark  how.  after  Fri- 
day's sunset,  as  a  natural  consequence,  Saturday's 
Phoebus  illumined  the  world,  ay,  and  sunk  at  his  ap- 
pointed hour.  The  serving-maidens  of  the  hostel 
peeping  in,  marked  him  sleeping,  and  blessing  him 
for  a  pretty  youth,  tripped  lightly  from  the  chamber  ; 
the  boots  tried  haply  twice  or  thrice  to  call  him  (as 
boots  will  fain),  but  the  lovely  boy,  giving  another 
snore,  turned  on  his  side,  and  was  quite  unconscious 
of  the  interruption.  In  a  word,  the  youth  slept  for 
six-and-thirty  hours  at  an  elongation  ;  and  the  Sunday 
sun  was  shining,  and  the  bells  of  the  hundred  church- 
es of  Cologne  were  clinking  and  tolling  in  pious  fes- 
tivity, and  the  burghers  and  burgheresses  of  the  town 
were  trooping  to  vespers  and  morning  service  when 
Otto  woke. 

As  he  donned  his  clothes  of  the  richest  Genoa  vel- 
vet, the  astonished  boy  could  not  at  first  account  for 
his  difficulty  in  putting  them  on.  "  Marry,"  said  he, 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE.          133 

tt  these  breeches  that  my  blessed  mother  (tears  filled 
his  fine  eyes  as  he  thought  of  her),  that  my  blessed 
mother  had  made  long  on  purpose,  are  now  ten  inches 
too  short  for  me  !  "Whir-r-r !  my  coat  cracks  i'  the 
back,  as  in  vain  I  try  to  buckle  it  round  me ;  and  the 
sleeves  reach  no  farther  than  my  elbows !  What  is 
this  mystery  1  Am  I  grown  fat  and  tall  in  a  single 
night  ?  Ah  !  ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  I  have  it." 

The  young  and  good-humored  Childe  laughed 
merrily.  He  bethought  him  of  the  reason  of  his 
mistake:  his  garments  had  shrunk  from  being  five- 
and-twenty  miles  under  water. 

But  one  remedy  presented  itself  to  his  mind  ;  and 
that  we  need  not  say  was  to  purchase  new  ones.  In- 
quiring the  way  to  the  most  genteel  ready-made- 
clothes'  establishment  in  the  city  of  Cologne,  and 
finding  it  was  kept  in  the  Minoriten  Strasse,  by  an 
ancestor  of  the  celebrated  Moses  of  London,  the  no- 
ble Childe  hied  him  towards  the  emporium,  but  you 
may  be  sure  did  not  neglect  to  perform  his  religious 
duties  by  the  way.  Entering  the  cathedral,  he  made 
straight  for  the  shrine  of  Saint  Buffo,  and  hiding 
himself  behind  a  pillar  there  (fearing  lest  he  might  be 
recognised  by  the  Archbishop,  or  any  of  his  father's 
numerous  friends  in  Cologne),  he  proceeded  with  his 
devotions,  as  was  the  practice  of  the  young  nobles  of 
the  age. 

But  though  exceedingly  intent  upon  the  service, 


134  A    LEGEND    OF   THE   RHINE. 

yet  his  eye  could  not  refrain  from  wandering  a  little 
round  about  him,  and  he  remarked  with  surprise  that 
the  whole  church  was  filled  with  archers  ;  and  he 
remembered,  too,  that  he  had  seen  in  the  streets  nu- 
merous other  bands  of  men  similarly  attired  in 
green.  On  asking  at  the  cathedral  porch  the  cause 
of  this  assemblage,  one  of  the  green  ones  said  (in  a 
jape),  "  Marry,  youngster,  you  must  be  green,  not  to 
know  that  we  are  all  bound  to  the  castle  of  His 
Grace  Duke  Adolf  of  Cleves.  who  gives  an  archery 
meeting  once  a  year,  and  prizes  for  which  we  toxophi- 
lites  muster  strong." 

Otto,  whose  course  hitherto  had  been  undetermin- 
ed now  immediately  settled  what  to  do.  He  straight- 
way repaired  to  the  ready-made  emporium  of  Herr 
Moses,  and  bidding  that  gentleman  furnish  him  with 
an  archer's  complete  dress,  Moses  speedily  selected  a 
suit  from  his  vast  stock,  which  fitted  the  youth  to  a  t, 
and  we  need  not  say  was  sold  at  an  exceedingly  low 
price.  So  attired  (and  bidding  Herr  Moses  a  cordial 
farewell),  young  Otto  was  a  gorgeous,  a  noble,  a  soul- 
inspiring  boy  to  gaze  on.  A  coat  and  breeches  of 
the  most  brilliant  pea-green,  ornamented  with  a  pro- 
fusion of  brass  buttons,  and  fitting  him  with  exqui- 
site tightness,  showed  off  a  figure  unrivalled  for  slim 
symmetry.  His  feet  were  covered  with  peaked  bus- 
kins of  buff  leather,  and  a  belt  round  his  slender  waist 
of  the  same  material,  held  his  knife,  his  tobacco-pipe 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  135 

and  pouch,  and  his  long  shining  dirk,  which,  though 
the  adventurous  youth  had  as  yet  only  employed  it 
to  fashion  wicket-bails,  or  to  cut  bread-and-cheese,  he 
was  now  quite  ready  to  use  against  the  enemy.  His 
personal  attractions  were  enhanced  by  a  neat  white 
hat,  flung  carelessly  and  fearlessly  on  one  side  of  his 
open  smiling  countenance,  and  his  lovely  hair,  curling 
in  ten  thousand  yellow  ringlets,  fell  over  his  shoul- 
ders like  golden  epaulettes,  and  down  his  back  as  far 
as  the  waist-buttons  of  his  coat.  I  warrant  me, 
many  a  lovely  Colnerinn  looked  after  the  handsome 
Childe  with  anxiety,  and  dreamed  that  night  of  Cu- 
pid under  the  guise  of  "  a  bonny  boy  in  green." 

So  accoutred,  the  youth's  next  thought  was. 
that  he  must  supply  himself  with  a  bow.  This  he 
speedily  purchased  at  the  most  fashionable  bowyer's, 
and  of  the  best  material  and  make.  It  was  of  ivory, 
trimmed  with  pink  ribbon,  and  the  cord  of  silk.  An 
elegant  quiver,  beautifully  painted  and  embroidered, 
was  slung  across  his  back,  with  a  dozen  of  the  finest 
arrows,  tipped  with  steel  of  Damascus,  formed  of  the 
branches  of  the  famous  Upas-tree  of  Java,  and 
feathered  with  the  wings  of  the  ortolan.  These  pur- 
chases being  completed  (together  with  that  of  a  knap- 
sack, dressing-case,  change,  &c.),  our  young  adven- 
turer asked  where  was  the  hostel  at  which  the  arch- 
ers were  wont  to  assemble  ?  and  being  informed  that 
it  was  at  the  sign  of  the  Golden  Stag,  hied  him  to 


136  A    LEGEND    OF    THE   RHINE. 

that  house  of  entertainment,  where,  by  calling  for 
quantities  of  liquor  and  beer,  he  speedily  made  the 
acquaintance  and  acquired  the  good  will  of  a  company 
of  his  future  comrades,  who  happened  to  be  sitting  in 
t'ie  coffee-room. 

After  they  had  eaten  and  drunken  for  all,  Otto 
said,  addressing  them,  "  When  go  ye  forth,  gentles  ? 
I  am  a  stranger  here,  bound  as  you  to  the  archery 
meeting  of  Duke  Adolf,  an  ye  will  admit  a  youth 
into  your  company  'twill  gladden  me  upon  my  lonely 
way?" 

The  archers  replied.  "  You  seem  so  young  and 
jolly,  and  you  spend  your  gold  so  very  like  a  gentle- 
man, that  we'll  receive  you  in  our  band  with  pleasure. 
Be  ready,  for  we  start  at  half-past  two  !  "  At  that 
hour  accordingly  the  whole  joyous  company  prepared 
to  move,  and  Otto  not  a  little  increased  his  popu- 
larity among  them  by  stepping  out  and  having  a  con- 
ference with  the  landlord,  which  caused  the  latter  to 
come  into  the  room  where  the  archers  were  assem- 
bled previous  to  departure,  and  to  say,  "  Gentlemen, 
the  bill  is  settled  !  " — words  never  ungrateful  to  an 
archer  yet ;  no,  marry,  nor  to  a  man  of  any  other 
calling  that  I  wot  of. 

They  marched  joyously  for  several  leagues,  sing- 
ing and  joking,  and  telling  of  a  thousand  feats  of 
love  and  chase  and  war.  While  thus  engaged,  some 
one  remarked  to  Otto  that  he  was  not  dressed  in  the 
regular  uniform,  having  no  feathers  in  his  hat. 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  137 

"  I  daresay  I  will  find  a  feather,"  said  the  lad, 
smiling. 

Then  another  gibed  because  his  bow  was  new. 

"  See  that  you  can  use  your  old  one  as  well, 
Master  Wolfgang,"  said  the  undisturbed  youth. 
His  answers,  his  bearing,  his  generosity,  his  beauty, 
and  his  wit,  inspired  all  his  new  toxophilite  friends 
with  interest  and  curiosity,  and  they  longed  to  see 
whether  his  skill  with  the  bow  corresponded  with 
their  secret  sympathies  for  him. 

An  occasion  for  manifesting  this  skill  did  not 
fail  to  present  itself  soon — as  indeed  it  seldom  does 
to  such  a  hero  of  romance  as  young  Otto  was.  Fate 
seems  to  watch  over  such ;  events  occur  to  them  just 
in  the  nick  of  time :  they  rescue  virgins  just  as 
ogres  are  on  the  point  of  devouring  them ;  they 
manage  to  be  present  at  court  and  interesting  cere- 
monies, and  to  see  the  most  interesting  people  at  the 
most  interesting  moment  ;  directly  an  adventure  is 
necessary  for  them,  that  adventure  occurs,  and  I,  for 
my  part,  have  often  wondered  with  delight  (and  never 
could  penetrate  the  mystery  of  the  subject)  at  the 
way  in  which  that  humblest  of  romance  heroes, 
Signer  Clown,  when  he  wants  anything  in  the  Pan- 
tomime, straightway  finds  it  to  his  hand.  How  is  it 
that, — suppose  he  wishes  to  dress  himself  up  like  a 
woman  for  instance,  that  minute  a  coal-heaver  walks 
in  with  a  shovel  hat  that  answers  for  a  bonnet ;  at 


138  A    LEGEND    OF    THE 


the  very  next  instant  a  butcher's  lad  passing  with  a 
string  of  sausages  and  a  bundle  of  bladders  uncon- 
sciously helps  Master  Clown  to  a  necklace  and  a 
tournurc,  and  so  on  through  the  whole  toilet  1  De- 
pend upon  it  there  is  something  \ve  do  not  wot  of  in 
that  mysterious  overcoming  of  circumstances  by  great 
individuals,  that  apt  and  wondrous  conjuncture  of  the 
Hour  and  the  Man ;  and  so,  for  my  part,  when  I 
heard  the  above  remark  of  one  of  the  archers,  that 
Otto  had  never  a  feather  in  his  bonnet,  I  felt  sure 
that  a  heron  would  spring  up  in  the  next  sentence  to 
supply  him  with  an  aigrette. 

And  such  indeed  was  the  fact ;  rising  out  of  a 
morass  by  which  the  archers  were  passing,  a  gallant 
heron,  arching  his  neck,  swelling  his  crest,  placing 
his  legs  behind  him,  and  his  beak  and  red  eyes 
against  the  wind,  rose  slowly,  and  offered  the  fairest 
mark  in  the  world. 

"  Shoot,  Otto,"  said  one  of  the  archers.  ';  You 
would  not  shoot  just  now  at  a  crow  because  it  was  a 
foul  bird,  nor  at  a  hawk  because  it  was  a  noble  bird ; 
bring  us  down  yon  heron.  It  flies  slowly." 

But  Otto  was  busy  that  moment  tying  his  shoe- 
string, and  Kudolf,  the  third  best  of  the  archers,  shot 
at  the  bird  and  missed  it. 

"  Shoot,  Otto,"  said  Wolfgang,  a  youth  who  had 
taken  a  liking  to  the  young  archer.  "  the  bird  is  get- 
ting further  and  further." 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  139 

But  Otto  was  busy  that  moment  whittling  a  wil- 
low twig  he  had  just  cut.  Max,  the  second  best 
archer,  shot  and  missed. 

"  Then,"  said  Wolfgang,  "  I  must  try  myself;  a 
plague  on  you.  young  Springald,  you  have  lost  a 
noble  chance ! " 

Wolfgang  prepared  himself  with  all  his  care,  and 
shot  at  the  bird.  "  It  is  out  of  distance,"  said  he, 
"  and  a  murrain  on  the  bird  !  " 

Otto,  who  by  this  time  had  done  whittling  his 
willow  stick  (having  carved  a  capital  caricature  of 
Wolfgang  upon  it),  flung  the  twig  down,  and  said 
carelessly,  "  Out  of  distance  !  Pshaw  !  We  have 
two  minutes  yet,"  and  fell  to  asking  riddles  and  cut- 
ting jokes,  to  the  which  none  of  the  archers  listened, 
as  they  were  all  engaged,  their  noses  in  air.  watching 
the  retreating  bird. 

"  Where  shall  I  hit  him?  "  said  Otto. 

"  Go  to,"  said  Rudolf,  "  thou  canst  see  no  limb  of 
him  ;  he  is  no  bigger  than  a  flea." 

"  Here  goes  for  his  right  eye  !  "  said  Otto ;  and 
stepping  forward  in  the  English  manner  (which  his 
godfather  having  learnt  in  Palestine,  had  taught 
him),  he  brought  his  bow-string  to  his  ear,  took  a 
good  aim,  allowing  for  the  wind,  and  calculating  the 
parabola  to  a  nicety,  whizz  !  his  arrow  went  off. 

He  took  up  the  willow  twig  again,  and  began 


140  A    LEGEND   OF    THE    RHINE. 

carving  a  head  of  Rudolf  at  the  other  end,  chatting 
and  laughing,  and  singing  a  ballad  the  while. 

The  archers,  after  standing  a  long  time  looking 
skywards,  with  their  noses  in  the  air,  at  last  brought 
them  down  from  the  perpendicular  to  the  horizontal 
position,  and  said,  "  Pooh,  this  lad  is  a  humbug ! 
The  arrow's  lost ;  let's  go  !  " 

"Heads!"  cried  Otto,  laughing.  A  speck  was 
seen  rapidly  descending  from  the  heavens ;  it  grew 
to  be  as  big  as  a  crown-piece,  then  as  a  partridge, 
then  as  a  tea-kettle,  and  flop !  down  fell  a  mag- 
nificent heron  to  the  ground,  flooring  poor  Max  in 
its  fall. 

"  Take  the  arrow  out  of  his  eye,  Wolfgang," 
said  Otto,  without  looking  at  the  bird,  "wipe  it, 
and  put  it  back  into  my  quiver."  The  arrow  in- 
deed was  there,  having  penetrated  right  through  the 
pupil. 

"  Are  you  in  league  with  Der  Freischutz  ?  "  said 
Rudolf,  quite  amazed. 

Otto  laughingly  whistled  the  "  Huntsman's  Cho- 
rus," and  said, "  No,  my  friend.  It  was  a  lucky  shot, 
only  a  lucky  shot.  I  was  taught  shooting,  look  you. 
in  the  fashion  of  merry  England,  where  the  archers 
are  archers  indeed." 

And  so  he  cut  off  the  heron's  wing  for  a  plume 
for  his  hat ;  and  the  archers  walked  on,  much  amazed, 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE  141 

and  saying,  "  What  a  wonderful  country  that  merry 
England  must  be  !  " 

Far  from  feeling  any  envy  at  their  comrade's  suc- 
cess, the  jolly  archers  recognised  his  superiority  with 
pleasure ;  and  Wolfgang  and  Rudolf  especially  held 
out  their  hands  to  the  younker,  and  besought  the 
honour  of  his  friendship.  They  continued  their  walk 
all  day,  and  when  night  fell  made  choice  of  a  good 
hostel  you  may  be  sure,  where,  over  beer,  punch, 
Champagne,  and  every  luxury,  they  drank  to  the 
health  of  the  Duke  of  Cleves,  and  indeed  each  other's 
healths  all  round.  Next  day  they  resumed  their 
march,  and  continued  it  without  interruption,  except 
to  take  in  a  supply  of  victuals  here  and  there  (and  it 
was  found  on  these  occasions  that  Otto,  young  as  he 
was,  could  eat  four  times  as  much  as  the  oldest  archer 
present,  and  drink  to  correspond),  and  these  con- 
tinued refreshments  having  given  them  more  than 
ordinary  strength,  they  determined  on  making  rather 
a  long  march  of  it,  and  did  not  halt  till  after  night- 
fall at  the  gates  of  the  little  town  of  Windeck. 

What  was  to  be  done?  the  town-gates  were  shut. 
"  Is  there  no  hostel,  no  castle  where  we  can  sleep?  " 
asked  Otto  of  the  sentinel  at  the  gate.  "  I  am  so 
hungry  that,  in  lack  of  better  food,  I  think  I  could 
eat  my  grandmamma." 

The  sentinel  laughed  at  this  hyperbolical  expres- 
sion of  hunger,  and  said,  "  You  had  best  go  sleep  at 


142  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

the  Castle  of  "Windeck  yonder ; "  and  adding,  with 
a  peculiarly  knowing  look,  "  Nobody  will  disturb  you 
there." 

At  that  moment  the  moon  broke  out  from  a 
cloud,  and  showed  on  a  hill  hard  by  a  castle  indeed 
— but  the  skeleton  of  a  castle.  The  roof  was  gone, 
the  windows  were  dismantled,  the  towers  were  tum- 
bling, and  the  cold  moonlight  pierced  it  through  and 
through.  One  end  of  the  building  was,  however, 
still  covered  in,  and  stood  looking  still  more  frown- 
ing, vast,  and  gloomy,  even,  than  the  other  part  of 
the  edifice. 

'•  There  is  a  lodging,  certainly.''  said  Otto  to  the 
sentinel,  who  pointed  towards  the  castle  with  his  bar- 
tizan ;  "  but  tell  me,  good  fellow,  what  are  we  to  do 
for  a  supper  ?  " 

"  0  the  castellan  of  Windeck  will  entertain  you," 
said  the  man-at-arms  with  a  grin,  and  marched  up 
the  embrasure,  the  while  the  archers,  taking  counsel 
among  themselves,  debated  whether  or  not  they 
should  take  up  their  quarters  in  the  gloomy  and  de- 
serted edifice. 

"We  shall  get  nothing  but  an  owl  for  supper 
there,"  said  young  Otto.  "  Marry,  lads,  let  us  storm 
the  town ;  we  are  thirty  gallant  fellows,  and  I  have 
heard  the  garrison  is  not  more  than  three  hundred." 
But  the  rest  of  the  party  thought  such  a  way  of  get- 
ting supper  was  not  a  very  cheap  one.  and.  grovelling 


A    LEGEND    OF    Till:    KI11KK.  143 

knaves,  preferred  rather  to  sleep  ignobly  and  without 
victuals,  than  dare  the  assault  with  Otto  and  die,  or 
conquer  something  comfortable. 

One  and  all  then  made  -their  way  towards  the 
castle.  They  entered  its  vast,  and  silent  halls,  fright- 
ening the  owls  and  bats  that  fled  before  them  with 
hideous  hootings  and  flappings  of  wings,  and  passing 
by  a  multiplicity  of  mouldy  stairs,  dank  reeking  roofs, 
and  rickety  corridors,  at  last  came  to  an  apartment 
which,  dismal  and  dismantled  as  it  was,  appeared  to 
be  in  rather  better  condition  than  the  neighbouring 
chambers,  and  they  therefore  selected  it  as  their  place 
of  rest  for  the  night.  They  then  tossed  up  which 
should  mount  guard.  The  first  two  hours  of  watch 
fell  to  Otto,  who  was  to  be  succeeded  by  his  young 
though  humble  friend  Wolfgang;  and,  accordingly, 
the  Childe  of  Godesberg,  drawing  his  dirk,  began  to 
pace  upon  his  weary  round ;  while  his  comrades,  by 
various  gradations  of  snoring,  told  how  profoundly 
they  slept,  spite  of  their  lack  of  supper. 

'Tis  needless  to  say  what  were  the  thoughts  of 
the  noble  Childe  as  he  performed  his  two  hours' 
watch  ;  what  gushing  memories  poured  into  his  full 
soul ;  what  "  sweet  and  bitter"  recollections  of  home 
inspired  his  throbbing  heart ;  and  what  manly  aspi- 
rations after  fame  buoyed  him  up.  "  Youth  is  ever 
confident,"  says  the  bard.  Happy,  happy  season ! 
The  moon-lit  hours  passed  by  on  silver  wings,  the 


144  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

twinkling  stars  looked  friendly  down  upon  him.  Con- 
fiding in  their  youthful  sentinel,  sound  slept  the 
valorous  toxophilites,  as  up  and  down,  and  there  and 
back  again,  marched  on  the  noble  Childe.  At  length 
his  repeater  told  him,  much  to  his  satisfaction,  that 
it  was  half-past  eleven,  the  hour  when  his  watch  was 
to  cease,  and  so  giving  a  playful  kick  to  the  slumber- 
ing Wolfgang,  that  good-humoured  fellow  sprung  up 
from  his  lair,  and,  drawing  his  sword,  proceeded  to 
relieve  Otto. 

The  latter  laid  him  down  for  warmth's  sake  in 
the  very  spot  which  his  comrade  had  left,  and  for 
some  time  could  not  sleep.  Realities  and  visions 
then  began  to  mingle  in  his  mind,  till  he  scarce  knew 
which  was  which.  He  dozed  for  a  minute  ;  then  he 
woke  with  a  start ;  then  he  went  off  again  ;  then  woke 
up  again.  In  one  of  these  half-sleeping  moments  he 
thought  he  saw  a  figure,  as  of  a  woman  in  white 
sliding  into  the  room,  and  beckoning  Wolfgang  from 
it.  He  looked  again.  Wolfgang  was  gone.  At 
that  moment  twelve  o'clock  clanged  from  the  town, 
and  Otto  started  up. 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  145 

CHAPTER   IX. 

THE    LADY    OP    WINDECK. 

As  the  bell  with  iron  tongue  called  midnight,  Wolf- 
gang the  Archer,  pacing  on  his  watch,  beheld  before 
him  a  pale  female  figure.  He  did  not  know  whence 
she  came  :  but  there  suddenly  she  stood  close  to  him. 
Her  blue,  clear,  glassy  eyes  were  fixed  upon  him. 
Her  form  was  of  faultless  beauty ;  her  face  pale  as 
the  marble  of  the  fairy  statue,  ere  yet  the  sculptor's 
love  had  given  it  life.  A  smile  played  upon  her 
features,  but  it  was  no  warmer  than  the  reflection  of 
a  moonbeam  on  a  lake ;  and  yet  it  was  wondrous 
beautiful.  A  fascination  stole  over  the  senses  of 
young  Wolfgang.  He  stared  at  the  lovely  apparition 
with  fixed  eyes  and  distended  jaws.  She  looked  at 
him  with  ineffable  archness.  She  lifted  one  beauti- 
fully rounded  alabaster  arm,  and  made  a  sign  as  to 
beckon  him  towards  her.  Did  Wolfgang — the  young 
and  lusty  Wolfgang — follow  ?  Ask  the  iron  whether 
it  follows  the  magnet  ? — ask  the  pointer  whether  it 
pursues  the  partridge  through  the  stubble  ? — ask  the 
youth  whether  the  lollypop-shop  does  not  attract  him  ? 
Wolfgang  did  follow.  An  antique  door  opened  as 
if  by  magic.  There  was  no  light ;  and  yet  they  saw 
quite  plain ;  they  passed  through  the  innumerable 
7 


146  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

ancient  chambers,  and  yet  they  did  not  wake  any  of 
the  owls  and  bats  roosting  there.  "We  know  not 
through  how  many  apartments  the  young  couple 
passed  ;  but  at  last  they  came  to  one  where  a  feast 
was  prepared ;  and  on  an  antique  table,  covered  \vith 
massive  silver,  covers  were  laid  for  two.  The  lady 
took  her  place  at  one  end  of  the  table,  and  with  her 
sweetest  nod  beckoned  Wolfgang  to  the  other  seat. 
He  took  it.  The  table  was  small,  and  their  knees 
met.  He  felt  as  cold  in  his  legs  as  if  he  were  kneel- 
ing against  an  ice-well. 

"  Gallant  archer,"  said  she,  "  you  must  be  hungry 
after  your  day's  march.  What  supper  will  you  have  ? 
Shall  it  be  a  delicate  lobster-salad  ?  or  a  dish  of  ele- 
gant tripe  and  onions  ?  or  a  slice  of  boar's-head  and 
truffles  ?  or  a  Welsh  rabbit,  d  la  cave  au  cidre  ?  or  a 
beefsteak  and  shallot?  or  a  couple  of  rognons  a  la 
brochette  ?  Speak,  brave  bowyer :  you  have  but  to 
order." 

As  there  was  nothing  on  the  table  but  a  covered 
silver  dish,  Wolfgang  thought  the  lady  who  proposed 
such  a  multiplicity  of  delicacies  to  him  was  only 
laughing  at  him ;  so  he  determined  to  try  her  with 
something  extremely  rare. 

"  Fair  princess,"  he  said,  "  I  should  like  very  much 
a  pork-chop  and  some  mashed  potatoes." 

She  lifted  the  cover  :  there  was  such  a  pork-chop 
as  Simpson  never  served,  with  a  dish  of  mashed  pota- 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  147 

toes  that  would  have  formed  at  least  six  portions  in 
our  degenerate  days  in  Rupert-street. 

When  he  had  helped  himself  to  these  delicacies, 
the  lady  put  the  cover  on  the  dish  again,  and  watched 
him  eating  with  interest.  He  was  for  some  time  too 
much  occupied  with  his  own  food  to  remark  that  his 
companion  did  not  eat  a  morsel ;  but  big  as  it  was, 
his  chop  was  soon  gone  ;  the  shining  silver  of  his 
plate  was  scraped  quite  clean  with  his  knife,  and, 
heaving  a  great  sigh,  he  confessed  a  humble  desire 
for  something  to  drink. 

"  Call  for  what  you  like,  sweet  Sir,"  said  the  lady, 
lifting  up  a  silver  fillagree  bottle,  with  an  India- 
rubber  cork,  ornamented  with  gold. 

"  Then,"  said  Master  Wolfgang — for  the  fellow's 
tastes  were,  in  sooth,  very  humble — "  I  call  for  half- 
and-half."  According  to  his  wish,  a  pint  of  that  deli- 
cious beverage  was  poured  from  the  bottle,  foaming, 
into  his  beaker. 

Having  emptied  this  at  a  draught,  and  declared 
that  on  his  conscience  it  was  the  best  tap  he  ever 
knew  in  his  life,  the  young  man  felt  his  appetite  re- 
newed ;  and  it  is  impossible  to  say  how  many  different 
dishes  he  called  for.  Only  enchantment,  he  was 
afterwards  heard  to  declare  (though  none  of  his 
friends  believed  him)  could  have  given  him  the  appe- 
tite he  possessed  on  that  extraordinary  night.  He 
called  for  another  pork-chop  and  potatoes,  then  for 


148  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

pickled  salmon ;  then  he  thought  he  would  try  a  de- 
villed turkey-wing.  "  I  adore  the  devil,"  said  he. 

"  So  do  I,"  said  the  pale  lady,  with  unwonted 
animation,  and  the  dish  was  served  straightway.  It 
was  succeeded  by  black  puddings,  tripe,  toasted 
cheese,  and — what  was  most  remarkable — every  one 
of  the  dishes  which  he  desired  came  from  under  the 
same  silver  cover — which  circumstance,  when  he  had 
partaken  of  about  fourteen  different  articles,  he  began 
to  find  rather  mysterious. 

"  Oh,"  said  the  pale  lady,  with  a  smile,  "  the  mys- 
tery is  easily  accounted  for :  the  servants  hear  you, 
and  the  kitchen  is  below."  But  this  did  not  account 
for  the  manner  in  which  more  half-and-half,  bitter 
ale,  punch  (both  gin  and  rum),  and  even  oil  and  vine- 
gar, which  he  took  with  cucumber  to  his  salmon,  came 
out  of  the  self-same  bottle  from  which  the  lady  had 
first  poured  out  his  pint  of  half-and-half. 

"  There  are  more  things  in  heaven  and  earth, 
Voracio,"  said  his  arch  entertainer,  when  he  put  this 
question  to  her,  "  than  are  dreamt  of  in  your  philo- 
sophy ; "  and,  sooth  to  say,  the  archer  was  by  this 
time  in  such  a  state,  that  he  did  not  find  anything 
wonderful  more. 

"  Are  you  happy,  dear  youth  ?  "  said  the  lady,  as, 
after  his  collation,  he  sank  back  in  his  chair. 

"  Oh,  Miss,  aint  I  ! "  was  his  interrogative  and 
yet  affirmative  reply. 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  149 

"Should  you  like  such  a  supper  every  night, 
Wolfgang?"  continued  the  pale  one. 

"  Why,  no  ; "  said  he — "  no,  not  exactly  ;  not  every 
night :  some  nights  I  should  like  oysters." 

"  Dear  youth,"  said  .she,  "  be  but  mine,  and  you 
may  have  them  all  the  year  round  !  "  The  unhappy 
boy  was  too  far  gone  to  suspect  anything,  otherwise 
this  extraordinary  speech  would  have  told  him  that 
he  was  in  suspicious  company.  A  person  who  can 
offer  oysters  all  the  year  round  can  live  to  no  good 
purpose. 

"  Shall  I  sing  you  a  song,  dear  archer  ?  "  said  the 
lady.  "  Sweet  love  !  "  said  he.  now  much  excited, 
"  strike  up,  and  I  will  join  the  chorus." 

She  took  down  her  mandolin,  and  commenced  a 
ditty.  'Twas  a  sweet  and  wild  one.  It  told  how  a 
lady  of  high  lineage,  cast  her  eyes  on  a  peasant  page ; 
it  told  how  nought  could  her  love  assuage,  her  suitor's 
wealth  and  her  father's  rage  :  it  told  how  the  youth 
did  his  foes  engage ;  and  at  length  they  went  off  in 
the  Gretna  stage,  the  high-born  dame  and  the  peasant 
page.  Wolfgang  beat  time,  waggled  his  head,  sung 
wofully  out  of  tune  as  the  song  proceeded  ;  and  if  he 
had  not  been  too  intoxicated  with  love  and  other  ex- 
citement, he  would  have  remarked  how  the  pictures 
on  the  wall,  as  the  lady  sung,  began  to  waggle  their 
heads  too,  and  nod  and  grin  to  the  music.  The  song 


150  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

ended,  I  am  the  lady  of  high  lineage :  Archer,  will 
you  be  the  peasant  page  ? 

"  I'll  follow  you  to  the  devil !  "  said  Wolfgang. 

"  Come,"  replied  the  lady,  glaring  wildly  on  him 
— "  come  to  the  chapel ;  we'll  be  married  this  min- 
ute ! " 

She  held  out  her  hand — Wolfgang  took  it.  It 
was  cold,  damp— deadly  cold  ;  and  on  they  went  to 
the  chapel. 

As  they  passed  out,  the  two  pictures  over  the  wall, 
of  a  gentleman  and  lady,  tripped  out  of  their  frames, 
skipped  noiselessly  down  to  the  ground,  and  making 
the  retreating  couple  a  profound  curtsey  and  bow, 
took  the  places  which  they  had  left  at  the  table. 

Meanwhile  the  young  couple  passed  on  towards  the 
chapel,  threading  innumerable  passages,  and  passing 
through  chambers  of  great  extent.  As  they  came 
along,  all  the  portraits  on  the  wall  stepped  out  of 
their  frames  to  follow  them.  One  ancestor,  of  whom 
there  was  only  a  bust,  frowned  in  the  greatest  rage, 
because,  having  no  legs,  his  pedestal  would  not  move  ; 
and  several  sticking-plaster  profiles  of  the  former 
lords  of  Windeck  looked  quite  black  at  being,  for 
similar  reasons,  compelled  to  keep  their  places. 
However,  there  was  a  goodly  procession  formed  be- 
hind Wolfgang  and  his  bride ;  and  by  the  time  they 
had  reached  the  church,  they  had  nearly  a  hundred 
followers. 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  151 

The  church  was  splendidly  illuminated ;  the  old 
banners  of  the  old  knights  glittered  as  they  do  at 
Drury  Lane.  The  organ  set  up  of  itself  to  play  the 
Bridesmaid's  Chorus.  The  choir-chairs  were  filled 
with  people  in  black 

"  Come,  love,"  said  the  pale  lady. 

"  I  don't  see  the  parson,"  exclaimed  Wolfgang, 
spite  of  himself  rather  alarmed. 

"  Oh,  the  parson  !  that's  the  easiest  thing  in  the 
world !  I  say,  Bishop !"  said  the  lady,  stooping 
down. 

Stooping  down — and  to  what  ?  Why,  upon  my 
word  and  honour,  to  a  great  brass  plate  on  the  floor, 
over  which  they  were  passing,  and  on  which  was  en- 
graven the  figure  of  a  bishop — and  a  very  ugly  bishop 
too — with  crosier  and  mitre,  and  lifted  finger,  on 
which  sparkled  the  episcopal  ring.  "  Do,  my  dear 
lord,  come  and  marry  us,"  said  the  lady,  with  a 
levity  which  shocked  the  feelings  of  her  bride- 
groom. 

The  Bishop  got  up ;  and  directly  he  rose,  a  dean 
who  was  sleeping  under  a  large  slate  near  him, 
came  bowing  and  cringing  up  to  him  :  while  a  canon 
of  the  cathedral  (whose  name  was  Schidnischmidt) 
began  grinning  and  making  fun  at  the  pair.  The 
ceremony  was  begun,  and  ******** 

As  the  clock  struck  twelve,  young  Otto  bounded 


152  A    LEGEND   OF   THE    RHINE. 

up  and  remarked  the  absence  of  his  companion  Wolf- 
gang. The  idea  he  had  had,  that  his  friend  disap- 
peared in  company  with  a  white  robed  female,  struck 
him  more  and  more.  "  I  will  follow  them,"  said  he  • 
and,  calling  to  the  next  on  the  watch  (old  Snooz,  who 
was  right  unwilling  to  forego  his  sleep),  he  rushed 
away  by  the  door  through  which  he  had  seen  Wolf- 
gang and  his  temptress  take  their  way. 

That  he  did  not  find  them  was  not  his  fault.  The 
castle  was  vast,  the  chamber  dark.  There  were  a 
thousand  doors,  and  what  wonder  that,  after  he  had 
once  lost  sight  of  them,  the  intrepid  Childe  should 
not  be  able  to  follow  in  their  steps  ?  As  might  be 
expected,  he  took  the  wrong  door,  and  wandered  for 
at  least  three  hours  about  the  dark  enormous  solitary 
castle,  calling  out  Wolfgang's  name  to  the  careless 
and  indifferent  echoes,  knocking  his  young  shins 
against  the  ruins  scattered  in  the  darkness,  but  still 
with  a  spirit  entirely  undaunted,  a  firm  resolution  to 
aid  his  absent  comrade.  Brave  Otto !  thy  exertions 
were  rewarded  at  last ! 

For  he  lighted  at  length  upon  the  very  apartment 
where  Wolfgang  had  partaken  of  supper,  and  where 
the  old  couple  who  had  been  in  the  picture-frames, 
and  turned  out  to  be  the  lady's  father  and  mother, 
were  now  sitting  at  the  table. 

"  Well,  Bertha  has  got  a  husband  at  last,"  said 
the  lady. 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 


"  After  waiting  four  hundred  and  fifty-three  years 
for  one,  it  was  quite  time."  said  the  gentleman.  (He 
was  dressed  in  powder  and  a  pigtail,  quite  in  the  old 
fashion.) 

"  The  husband  is  no  great  things,"  continued  the 
lady,  taking  snuff:  "  A  low  fellow,  my  dear :  a  butch- 
er's son,  I  believe.  Did  you  see  how  the  wretch  ate 
at  supper?  To  think  my  daughter  should  have  to 
marry  an  archer  !  " 

"  There  are  archers  and  archers,"  said  the  old 
man.  "  Some  archers  are  snobs,  as  your  ladyship 
states ;  some,  on  the  contrary,  are  gentlemen  by  birth, 
at  least,  though  not  by  breeding.  Witness  young 
Otto,  the  Landgrave  of  Godesberg's  son,  who  is  list- 
ening at  the  door  like  a  lackey,  and  whom  I  intend  to 
run  through  the — " 

"  Law,  Baron  !  "   said  the  lady. 

"  I  will,  though,"  replied  the  Baron,  drawing  an 
immense  sword,  and  glaring  round  at  Otto :  but 
though  at  the  sight  of  that  sword  and  that  scowl  a 
less  valorous  youth  -would  have  taken  to  his  heels,  the 
undaunted  Childe  advanced  at  once  into  the  apart- 
ment. He  wore  round  his  neck  a  relic  of  St.  Buffo 
(the  tip  of  the  saint's  ear,  which  had  been  cut  off  at 
Constantinople).  ';  Fiends  !  I  command  you  to  re- 
treat !"  said  he,  holding  up  this  sacred  charm,  which  his 
mamma  had  fastened  on  him ;  and  at  the  sight  of  it,  with 
an  unearthly  yell,  the  ghost  of  the  Baron  and  the  Ba 
7* 


154  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

roness  sprung  back  into  their  picture-frames,  as  Clown 
goes  through  a  clock  in  a  pantomime. 

He  rushed  through  the  open  door  by  which  the 
unlucky  Wolfgang  had  passed  with  his  demoniacal 
bride,  and  went  on  and  on  through  the  vast  gloomy 
chambers  lighted  by  the  ghastly  moonshine :  the  noise 
of  the  organ  in  the  chapel,  the  lights  in  the  kaleido- 
scopic windows,  directed  him  towards  that  edifice.  He 
rushed  to  the  door :  'twas  barred  !  He  knocked  :  the 
beadles  were  deaf.  He  applied  his  inestimable  relic 
to  the  lock,  and — whizz  !  crash  !  clang  !  bang !  whang  ! 
— the  gate  flew  open !  the  organ  went  off  in  a  fugue 
— the  lights  quivered  over  the  tapers,  and  then  went 
off  towards  the  ceiling — the  ghosts  assembled  rushed 
away  with  a  skurry  and  a  scream — the  bride  howled, 
and  vanished — the  fat  bishop  waddled  back  under  his 
brass  plate — the  dean  flounced  down  into  his  family 
vault — and  the  canon  Schidnischmidt,  who  was  mak- 
ing a  joke,  as  usual,  on  the  bishop,  was  obliged  to 
stop  at  the  very  point  of  his  epigram,  and  to  disap- 
pear into  the  void  whence  he  came. 

Otto  fell  fainting  at  the  porch,  while  Wolfgang 
tumbled  lifeless  down  at  the  altar-steps  ;  and  in  this 
situation  the  archers,  when  they  arrived,  found  the 
two  youths.  They  were  resuscitated,  as  we  scarce 
need  say ;  but  when,  in  incoherent  accents,  they  came 
to  tell  their  wondrous  tale,  some  sceptics  among  the 
archers  said — "  Pooh  !  they  were  intoxicated  !  "  while 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  155 

others,  nodding  their  older  heads,  exclaimed — "  They 
have  seen  the  Lady  of  Windcck !  "  and  recalled  the 
stories  of  many  other  young  men,  who,  inveigled  by 
her  devilish  arts,  had  not  been  so  lucky  as  Wolfgang, 
and  had  disappeared — for  ever  ! 

This  adventure  bound  Wolfgang  heart  and  soul  to 
his  gallant  preserver  ;  and  the  archers — it  being  now 
morning,  and  the  cocks  crowing  lustily  round  about — 
pursued  their  way  without  further  delay  to  the  castle 
of  the  noble  patron  of  Toxophilites,  the  gallant  Duke 
of  Cleves. 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE    BATTLE    OF    THE    BOWMEN. 

ALTHOUGH  there  lay  an  immense  number  of  castles 
and  abbeys  between  Windeck  and  Cleves,  for  every 
one  of  which  the  guide-books  have  a  legend  and  a 
ghost,  who  might,  with  the  commonest  stretch  of  in- 
genuity, be  made  to  waylay  our  adventurers  on  the 
road  ;  yet,  as  the  journey  would  be  thus  almost  inter- 
minable, let  us  cut  it  short  by  saying  that  the  travel- 
lers reached  Cleves  without  any  further  accident,  and 
found  the  place  thronged  with  visitors  for  the  meeting 
next  day. 

And  here  it  would  be  easy  to  describe  the  company 


156  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

which  arrived,  and  make  display  of  antiquarian  lore. 
Now  we  would  represent  a  cavalcade  of  knights  arriv- 
ing, with  their  pages  carrying  their  shining  helms  of 
gold,  and  the  stout  esquires,  bearers  of  lance  and 
banner.  Anon  would  arrive  a  fat  abbot  on  his  am- 
bling pad,  surrounded  by  the  white-robed  companions 
of  his  convent.  Here  should  come  the  gleemen  and 
jongleurs,  the  minstrels,  the  mountebanks,  the  party- 
coloured  gipsies,  the  dark-eyed  nut-brown  Zigeunerin- 
nen ;  then  a  troop  of  peasants,  chanting  Rhine-songs, 
and  leading  in  their  ox-drawn  carts  the  peach-cheeked 
girls  from  the  vine-lands.  Next  we  would  depict  the 
litters  blazoned  with  armorial  bearings,  from  between 
the  broidered  curtains  of  which  peeped  out  the  swan- 
like  necks  and  the  haughty  faces  of  the  blonde  ladies 
of  the  castles.  But  for  these  descriptions  we  have  not 
space  ;  and  the  reader  is  referred  to  the  account  of 
the  tournament  in  the  ingenious  novel  of  Ivanhoc. 
where  the  above  phenomena  are  described  at  length. 
Suffice  it  to  say,  that  Otto  and  his  companions  arriv- 
ed at  the  town  of  Cleves,  and,  hastening  to  a  hostel, 
reposed  themselves  after  the  day's  march,  and  pre- 
pared them  for  the  encounter  of  the  morrow. 

That  morrow  came ;  and  as  the  sports  were  to 
begin  early,  Otto  and  his  comrades  hastened  to  the 
field,  armed  with  their  best  bows  and  arrows,  yon 
may  be  sure,  and  eager  to  distinguish  themselves,  as 
•were  the  multitude  of  other  archers  assembled.  They 


A    LEGEND    OF   THE    RHINE.  157 

were  from  all  neighbouring  countries — crowds  of 
English,  as  you  may  fancy,  armed  with  Murray's 
guide-books,  troops  of  chattering  Frenchmen.  Jews 
with  roulette-tables,  Frankfort  and  Tyrolese,  with 
gloves  and  trinkets — all  hied  towards  the  field  where 
the  butts  were  set  up,  and  the  archery  practice  was 
to  be  held.  The  Childe  and  his  brother  archers  were, 
it  need  not  be  said,  early  on  the  ground. 

But  what  words  of  mine  can  describe  the  young 
gentleman's  emotion  when,  preceded  by  a  band  of 
trumpets,  bagpipes,  ophicleides,  and  other  wind  in- 
struments, the  Prince  of  Cleyes  appeared  with  the 
Princess  Helen,  his  daughter  ?  And,  ah  !  what  ex- 
pressions of  my  humble  pen  can  do  justice  to  the 
beauty  of  that  young  lady?  Fancy  every  charm 
which  decorates  the  person,  every  virtue  which  orna- 
ments the  mind,  every  accomplishment  which  renders 
charming  mind  and  charming  person  doubly  charming, 
and  then  you  will  have  but  a  faint  and  feeble  idea  of 
the  beauties  of  her  highness  the  Princess  Helen. 
Fancy  a  complexion  such  as  they  say  (I  know  not 
with  what  justice)  Rowland's  Kalydor  imparts  to  the 
users  of  that  cosmetic ;  fancy  teeth,  to  which  orient 
pearls  are  like  Wallsend  coals ;  eyes,  which  were  so 
blue,  tender,  and  bright,  that  while  they  run  you 
through  with  their  lustre,  they  healed  you  with  their 
kindness ;  a  neck  and  waist,  so  ravishingly  slender 
and  graceful,  that  the  least  that  is  said  about  them 


158  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

the  better  ;  a  foot  which  fell  upon  the  flowers  no 
heavier  than  a  dewdrop — and  this  charming  person, 
set  off  by  the  most  elegant  toilet  that  ever  milliner 
devised  !  The  lovely  Helen's  hair  (which  was  as  black 
as  the  finest  varnish  for  boots)  was  so  long,  that  it 
was  borne  on  a  cushion  several  yards  behind  her  by 
the  maidens  of  her  train;  and  a  hat,  set  off  with 
moss-roses,  sun-flowers,  bugles,  birds  of  paradise,  gold 
lace,  and  pink  ribbon,  gave  her  a  distingue  air,  which 
would  have  set  the  editor  of  the  Morning  Post  mad 
with  love. 

It  had  exactly  the  same  effect  upon  the  noble 
Childe  of  Godesberg,  as  leaning  on  his  ivory  bow, 
with  his  legs  crossed,  he  stood  and  gazed  on  her,  as 
Cupid  gazed  on  Psyche.  Their  eyes  met :  it  was  all 
over  with  both  of  them.  A  blush  came  at  one  and 
the  same  minute  budding  to  the  cheek  of  either.  A 
simultaneous  throb  beat  in  those  young  hearts  !  They 
loved  each  other  for  ever  from  that  instant.  Otto 
still  stood,  cross-legged,  enraptured,  leaning  on  his 
ivory  bow;  but  Helen,  calling  to  a  maiden  for  her 
pocket-handkerchief,  blew  her  beautiful  Grecian  nose 
in  order  to  hide  her  agitation.  Bless  ye,  bless  ye, 
pretty  ones  !  I  am  old  now  ;  but  not  so  old  but  that 
I  kindle  at  the  tale  of  love.  Theresa  Mac  Whirter 
too  has  lived  and  loved.  Heigho  ! 

Who  is  that  chief  that  stands  behind  the  truck 
whereon  are  seated  the  Princess  and  the  stout  old 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  159 

lord,  her  father  ?  Who  is  he  whose  hair  is  of  the 
carroty  hue  ?  whose  eyes,  across  the  snubby  bunch 
of  a  nose,  are  perpetually  scowling  at  each  other ;  who 
has  a  hump-back,  and  a  hideous  mouth,  surrounded 
with  bristles,  and  crammed  full  of  jutting  yellow 
odious  teeth.  Although  he  wears  a  sky-blue  doublet 
laced  with  silver,  it  only  serves  to  render  his  vulgar 
punchy  figure  doubly  ridiculous  ;  although  his  nether 
garment  is  of  salmon-coloured  velvet,  it  only  draws 
the  more  attention  to  his  legs,  which  are  disgustingly 
crooked  and  bandy.  A  rose-coloured  hat,  with  tower- 
ing pea-green  ostrich  plumes,  looks  absurd  on  his  bull 
head ;  and  though  it  is  a  time  of  peace,  the  wretch  is 
armed  with  a  multiplicity  of  daggers,  knives,  yata- 
ghans, dirks,  sabres,  and  scimitars,  which  testify  his 
truculent  and  bloody  disposition.  'Tis  the  terrible 
Rowsky  de  Donnerblitz,  Margrave  of  Eulenschrecken- 
stein.  Report  says  he  is  a  auitor  for  the  hand  of  the 
lovely  Helen.  He  addresses  various  speeches  of 
gallantry  to  her,  and  grins  hideously  as  he  thrusts  his 
disgusting  head  over  her  lily  shoulder.  But  she 
turns  away  from  him !  turns  and  shudders — aye,  as 
she  would  at  a  black  dose  ! 

Otto  stands  gazing  still,  and  leaning  on  his  bow. 
"  What  is  the  prize  ?  "  asks  one  archer  of  another. 
There  are  two  prizes — a  velvet  cap,  embroidered  by 
the  hand  of  the  Princess,  and  a  chain  of  massive  gold, 
of  enormous  value ;  both  lie  on  cushions  before  her. 


160  A   LEGEND    OF   THE    RHINE. 

"  I  know  which  I  shall  choose,  when  I  win  the 
first  prize,"  says  a  swarthy,  savage,  and  bandy-legged 
archer,  who  bears  the  owl  gules  on  a  black  shield,  the 
cognisance  of  the  Lord  Rowsky  de  Donnerblitz. 

"Which,  fellow?"  says  Otto,  turning  fiercely 
upon  him. 

"  The  chain,  to  be  sure  !  "  says  the  leering  archer. 
li  You  do  not  suppose  I  am  such  a  flat  as  to  choose 
that  velvet  gimcrack  there  ?  "  Otto  laughed  in  scorn, 
and  began  to  prepare  his  bow.  The  trumpets  sound- 
ing, proclaimed  that  the  sports  were  about  to  com- 
mence. 

Is  it  necessary  to  describe  them  ?  No  :  that  has 
already  been  done  in  the  novel  of  Ivanhoe,  before 
mentioned.  Fancy  the  archers  clad  in  Lincoln  green, 
all  coming  forward  in  turn,  and  firing  at  the  targets. 
Some  hit,  some  missed  ;  those  that  missed  were  fain 
to  retire  amidst  the  jeers  of  the  multitudinous  spec- 
tators. Those  that  hit  began  new  trials  of  skill ;  but 
it  was  easy  to  see,  from  the  first,  that  the  battle  lay 
between  Squintoff  (the  Rowsky  archer)  and  the  young 
hero,  with  the  golden  hair  and  the  ivory  bow.  Squin- 
toflPs  fame  as  a  marksman  was  known  throughout 
Europe ;  but  who  was  his  young  competitor  ?  Ah  ! 
there  was  one  heart  in  the  assembly  that  beat  most 
anxiously  to  know.  'Twas  Helen's. 

The  crowning  trial  arrived.  The  bull's-eye  of  the 
target,  set  up  at  three  quarters  of  a  mile  distance 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RH(NE.  161 

from  the  archers,  was  so  small,  that  it  required  a  very 
clever  man  indeed  to  see,  much  more  to  hit  it ;  and 
as  Squintoff  was  selecting  his  arrow  for  the  final  trial , 
the  Rowsky  flung  a  purse  of  gold  towards  his  areher. 
paying — "  Squintoff,  an  ye  win  the  prize,  the  purse  is 
thine."  "  I  may  as  well  pocket  it  at  once,  your  honour." 
said  the  bowman,  with  a  sneer  at  Otto.  "  This  young 
chick,  who  has  been  lucky  as  yet,  will  hardly  hit  such 
a  mark  as  that ; "  and,  taking  his  aim,  Squintoff  dis- 
charged his  arrow  right  into  the  very  middle  of  the 
bull's  eye. 

"  Can  you  mend  that,  young  springald  ?  "  said  he, 
as  a  shout  rent  the  air  at  his  success,  as  Helen  turn- 
ed pale  to  think  that  the  champion  of  her  secret 
heart  was  likely  to  be  overcome,  and  as  Squintoff, 
pocketing  the  Rowsky's  money,  turned  to  the  noble 
boy  of  Godesberg. 

"  Has  anybody  got  a  pea  ?  "  asked  the  lad.  Every- 
body laughed  at  his  droll  request ;  and  an  old  woman, 
who  was  selling  porridge  in  the  crowd,  handed  him 
the  vegetable  which  he  demanded.  It  was  a  dry  and 
yellow  pea.  Otto,  stepping  up  to  the  target,  caused 
Squintoff  to  extract  his  arrow  from  the  bull's-eye, 
and  placed  in  the  orifice  made  by  the  steel  point  of 
the  shaft,  the  pea  which  he  had  received  from  the 
old  woman.  He  then  came  back  to  his  place.  iAs 
he  prepared  to  shoot,  Helen  was  so  overcome  by 
emotion,  that  'twas  thought  she  would  have  fainted. 


162  A    LEGEND   OF    THE    RHINE. 

Never,  never  had  she  seen  a  being  so  beautiful  as  the 
young  hero  now  before  her  ! 

He  looked  almost  divine.  He  flung  back  his  long 
clusters  of  hair  from  his  bright  eyes  and  tall  forehead  ; 
the  blush  of  health  mantled  on  his  cheek,  from  which 
the  barber's  weapon  had  never  shorn  the  down.  He 
took  his  bow,  and  one  of  his  most  elegant  arrows, 
and,  poising  himself  lightly  on  his  right  leg,  he  flung 
himself  forward,  raising  his  left  leg  on  a  level  with 
his  ear.  He  looked  like  Apollo,  as  he  stood  balanc- 
ing himself  there.  He  discharged  his  dart  from  the 
thrumming  bowstring ;  it  clove  the  blue  air — whizz  ! 

"  He  has  split  the  pea!"  said  the  Princess,  and 
fainted.  The  Rowsky,  with  one  eye,  hurled  an  in- 
dignant look  at  the  boy.  while  with  the  other  he 
levelled  (if  aught  so  crooked  can  be  said  to  level  any- 
thing) a  furious  glance  at  his  archer. 

The  archer  swore  a  sulky  oath.  "  He  is  the  bet- 
ter man  !  "  said  he.  "  I  suppose,  young  chap,  you 
take  the  gold  chain  ?  " 

"  The  gold  chain  ?  "  said  Otto.  "  Prefer  a  gold 
chain  to  a  cap  worked  by  your  august  hand  ?  Never  ! " 
and,  advancing  to  the  balcony  where  the  Princess, 
who  now  came  to  herself,  was  sitting,  he  kneeled 
down  before  her,  and  received  the  velvet  cap,  which, 
blushing  as  scarlet  as  the  cap  itself,  the  Princess 
Helen  placed  on  his  golden  ringlets.  Once  more 
their  eyes  met — their  hearts  thrilled.  They  had 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  163 

never  spoken,  but  they  knew  they  loved  each  other 
for  ever. 

"  Wilt  thou  take  service  with  the  Rowsky  of 
Donnerblitz  ? "  said  that  individual  to  the  youth. 
"  Thou  shalt  be  captain  of  my  archers  in  place  of 
yon  blundering  nincompoop,  whom  thou  hast  over- 
come." 

"  Yon  blundering  nincompoop  is  a  skilful  and 
gallant  archer,"  replied  Otto,  haughtily ;  "  and  I 
will  not  take  service  with  the  Rowsky  of  Donner- 
blitz." 

"  Wilt  thou  enter  the  household  of  the  Prince 
of  Cleves  ?  "  said  the  father  of  Helen,  laughing,  and 
not  a  little  amused  at  the  haughtiness  of  the  humble 
archer. 

"  I  would  die  for  the  Duke  of  Cleves  and  his 
family"  said  Otto,  bowing  low.  He  laid  a  particu- 
lar and  a  tender  emphasis  on  the  word  family. 
Helen  knew  what  he  meant.  She  was  the  family. 
In  fact,  her  mother  was  no  more,  and  her  papa  had 
no  other  offspring. 

"  What  is  thy  name,  good  fellow  ? "  said  the 
Prince,  that  my  steward  may  enrol  thee. 

"  Sir,"  said  Otto,  again  blushing,  "  I  am  OTTO 
THE  ARCHER." 


164  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    EHINE. 

CHAPTER  XL 

THE    MARTYR    OF    LOVE. 

THE  archers  who  had  travelled  in  company  -with 
young  Otto,  gave  a  handsome  dinner  in  compliment 
to  the  success  of  our  hero,  at  which  his  friend  dis- 
tinguished himself  as  usual  in  the  eating  and  drink 
ing  department.  Squintoff,  the  Rowsky  bowman,  de- 
clined to  attend,  so  great  was  the  envy  of  the  brute 
at  the  youthful  hero's  superiority.  As  for  Otto  him- 
self, he  sat  on  the  right  hand  of  the  chairman,  but  it 
was  remarked  that  he  could  not  eat.  G-entle  reader 
of  my  page  !  thou  knowest  why  full  well.  He  was 
too  much  in  love  to  have  any  appetite :  for  though  I 
myself,  when  labouring  under  that  passion,  never 
found  my  consumption  of  victuals  diminish ;  yet  re- 
member our  Otto  was  a  hero  of  romance,  and  they 
never  are  hungry  when  they're  in  love. 

The  next  day,  the  young  gentleman  proceeded  to 
enrol  himself  in  the  corps  of  Archers  of  the  Prince 
of  Cleves,  and  with  him  came  his  attached  squire, 
who  vowed  he  never  would  leave  him.  As  Otto 
threw  aside  his  own  elegant  dress,  and  donned  the 
livery  of  the  House  of  Cleves,  the  noble  Childe 
sighed  not  a  little — 'twas  a  splendid  uniform,  'tis 
true,  but  still  it  was  a  livery,  and  one  of  his  proud 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE.          165 

spirit  ill  bears  another's  cognizances.  "  They  are 
the  colours  of  the  Prince's,  however,"  said  he,  con- 
soling himself;  "and  what  suffering  would. I  not  un- 
dergo for  her  ?  "  As  for  Wolfgang,  the  squire,  it 
may  well  be  supposed  that  the  good-natured,  low- 
born fellow,  had  no  such  scruples ;  but  he  was  glad 
enough  to  exchange  for  the  pink  hose,  the  yellow 
jacket,  the  pea-green  cloak,  and  orange-tawny  hat, 
with  which  the  Duke's  steward  supplied  him,  the 
homely  patched  doublet  of  green  which  he  had  worn 
for  years  past. 

"  Look  at  yon  two  archers,"  said  the  Prince  of 
Cleves  to  his  guest  the  Rowsky  of  Donnerblitz.  as 
they  were  strolling  on  the  battlements  after  dinner, 
smoking  their  cigars  as  usual.  His  Highness  pointed 
to  our  two  young  friends,  who  were  mounting  guard 
for  the  first  time.  "  See  yon  two  bowmen — mark 
their  bearing !  One  is  the  youth  who  beat  thy 
Squintoff,  and  t'other,  an  I  mistake  not,  won  the  third 
prize  at  the  butts.  Both  wear  the  same  uniform — 
the  colours  of  my  house — yet,  would'st  not  swear  that 
the  one  was  but  a  churl,  and  the  other  a  noble  gen- 
tleman ?  " 

"Which  looks  like  the  nobleman?"  said  the 
Rowsky,  as  black  as  thunder. 

"  Which  ?  why  young  Otto,  to  be  sure,"  said  the 
Princess  Helena,  eagerly.  The  young  lady  was  fol- 
lowing the  pair,  but  under  pretence  of  disliking  the 


166  A    LEGEND    OF   THE    RHINE. 

odour  of  the  cigar,  she  had  refused  the  Rowsky's 
proffered  arm,  and  was  loitering  behind  with  her 
parasol. 

Her  interposition  in  favour  of  her  young  prote'ge' 
only  made  the  black  and  jealous  Rowsky  more  ill- 
humoured.  "  How  long  is  it,  Sir  Prince  of  Cleves," 
said  he,  "  that  the  churls  who  wear  your  livery  per- 
mit themselves  to  wear  the  ornaments  of  noble 
knights  ?  What  but  a  noble  dare  wear  ringlets 
such  as  yon  springald's  ?  Ho,  archer ! "  roared  he, 
"come  hither,  fellow."  And  Otto  stood  before  him. 
As  he  came,  and  presenting  arms  stood  respectfully 
before  the  Prince  and  his  savage  guest,  he  looked  for 
one  moment  at  the  lovely  Helena — their  eyes  met, 
their  hearts  beat  simultaneously :  and,  quick,  two 
little  blushes  appeared  in  the  cheek  of  either.  I 
have  seen  one  ship  at  sea  answering  another's 
signal  so. 

While  they  are  so  regarding  each  other,  let  us 
just  remind  our  readers  of  the  great  estimation  in 
which  the  hair  was  held  in  the  North.  Only  nobles 
were  permitted  to  wear  it  long.  When  a  man  dis- 
graced himself,  a  shaving  was  sure  to  follow.  Penal- 
ties were  inflicted  upon  villains  or  vassals,  who  sported 
ringlets.  See  the  works  of  Aurelius  Tonsor  ;  Hir- 
sutus  de  Nobilitate  Capillari ;  Rolandus  de  Oleo 
Macassari;  Schnurrbart  Frisirische  Alterthumskun- 
de.  &c. 


A    LEGEND    OK    THE    RHINE.  167 

"We  must  have  those  ringlets  of  thine  cut, 
good  fellow,"  said  the  Duke  of  Cleves  good-natured- 
ly, but  wishing  to  spare  the  feelings  of  his  gallant  re- 
cruit. "  'Tis  against  the  regulation  cut  of  my  archer 
guard." 

"  Cut  off  my  hair  !  "  cried  Otto,  agonised. 

"  Ay,  and  thine  ears  with  it,  yokel,"  roared  Don- 
nerblitz. 

"  Peace,  noble  Eulenschreckenstein  !  "  said  the 
Duke  with  dignity ;  "  let  the  Duke  of  Cleves  deal  as 
he  will,  with  his  own  men-at-arms — and  you,  young 
Sir,  unloose  the  grip  of  thy  dagger." 

Otto,  indeed,  had  convulsively  grasped  his  snick- 
ersnee, with  intent  to  plunge  it  into  the  heart  of  the 
Rowsky,  but  his  politer  feelings  overcame  him.  "  The 
Count  need  not  fear,  my  Lord,"  said  he — "  a  lady  is 
present."  And  he  took  off  his  orange-tawny  cap, 
and  bowed  low.  Ah  !  what  a  pang  shot  through 
the  heart  of  Helena,  as  she  thought  that  those 
lovely  ringlets  must  be  shorn  from  that  beautiful 
head  ! 

Otto's  mind  was,  too,  in  commotion.  His  feel- 
ings as  a  gentleman — let  us  add,  his  pride  as  a 
man — for  who  is  not,  let  us  ask,  proud  of  a  good 
head  of  hair  ? — waged  war  within  his  soul.  He  ex- 
postulated with  the  Prince.  "  It  was  never  in  his 
contemplation,"  he  said,  "  on  taking  service,  to  un- 
dergo the  operation  of  hair-cutting." 


168  A    LEGEND   OF   THE    RHINE. 

"  Thou  art  free  to  go  or  stay,  Sir  Archer,"  said 
the  Prince  pettishly.  "  I  will  have  no  churls  imi- 
tating noblemen  in  my  service ;  I  will  bandy  no  con- 
ditions with  archers  of  my  guard." 

"  My  resolve  is  taken,"  said  Otto,  irritated  too 
in  his  turn.  "  I  will  ..." 

"  What !  "  cried  Helena,  breathless  with  intense 
agitation. 

"  I  will  stay"  answered  Otto.  The  poor  girl  al- 
most fainted  with  joy.  The  Rowsky  frowned  with 
demoniac  fury,  and  grinding  his  teeth  and  cursing  in 
the  horrible  German  jargon,  stalked  away.  "  So  be 
it,"  said  the  Prince  of  Cleves,  taking  his  daughter's 
arm — "  and  here  comes  Snipwitz,  my  barber,  who 
shall  do  the  business  for  you."  With  this  the 
Prince  too  moved  on,  feeling  in  his  heart  not  a  little 
compassion  for  the  lad ;  for  Adolf  of  Cleves  had 
been  handsome  in  his  youth,  and  distinguished  for 
the  ornament  of  which  he  was  now  depriving  his 
archer. 

Snipwitz  led  the  poor  lad  into  a  side-room,  and 
there — in  a  word — operated  upon  him.  The  golden 
curls — fair  curls  that  his  mother  had  so  often  played 
with ! — fell  under  the  shears  and  round  the  lad's 
knees,  until  he  looked  as  if  he  was  sitting  in  a  bath 
of  sunbeams. 

When  the  frightful  act  had  been  performed,  Otto, 
who  entered  the  little  chamber  in  the  tower,  ringlet- 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  169 

cd  like  Apollo,  issued  from  it  as  cropped  as  a  charity- 
boy. 

See  how  melancholy  he  looks,  now  that  the  opera- 
tion is  over! — And  no  wonder.  He  was  thinking 
what  would  be  Helena's  opinion  of  him,  now  that  one 
of  his  chief  personal  ornaments  was  gone.  "  Will  she 
know  me  ?  "  thought  he,  "  will  she  love  me  after  this 
hideous  mutilation?" 

Yielding  to  these  gloomy  thoughts,  and,  indeed, 
rather  unwilling  to  be  seen  by  his  comrades,  now 
that  he  was  so  disfigured,  the  young  gentleman  had 
hidden  himself  behind  one  of  the  buttresses  of  the 
wall,  a  prey  to  natural  despondency,  when  he  saw 
something  which  instantly  restored  him  to  good 
spirits.  He  saw  the  lovely  Helena  coming  towards 
the  chamber  where  the  odious  barber  had  performed 
upon  him. — coming  forward  timidly,  looking  round 
her  anxiously,  blushing  with  delightful  agitation, — 
and  presently  seeing,  as  she  thought,  the  coast  clear, 
she  entered  the  apartment.  She  stooped  down,  and, 
ah !  what  was  Otto's  joy  when  he  saw  her  pick  up  a 
beautiful  golden  lock  of  his  hair,  press  it  to  her  lips, 
and  then  hide  it  in  her  bosom  !  No  carnation  ever 
blushed  so  redly  as  Helena  did  when  she  came  out 
after  performing  this  feat.  Then  she  hurried  straight- 
way to  her  own  apartments  in  the  castle,  and  Otto, 
whose  first  impulse  was  to  come  out  from  his  hiding- 
place,  and.  falling  at  her  feet,  call  Heaven  and  Earth 
8 


170  A    LEGEND   OF    THE    RHINE. 

to  witness  to  his  passion,  with  difficulty  restrained  his 
feelings,  and  let  her  pass ;  but  the  love-stricken 
young  hero  was  so  delighted  with  this  evident  proof 
of  reciprocated  attachment,  that  all  regret  at  losing 
his  ringlets  at  once  left  him,  and  he  vowed  he  would 
sacrifice  not  only  his  hair,  but  his  head,  if  need  were, 
to  do  her  service. 

That  very  afternoon,  no  small  bustle  and  conver- 
sation took  place  in  the  castle,  on  account  of  the  sud- 
den departure  of  the  Rowsky  of  Eulenschreckenstein, 
with  all  his  train  and  equipage.  He  went  away  in 
the  greatest  wrath,  it  was  said,  after  a  long  and  loud 
conversation  with  the  Prince.  As  that  potentate 
conducted  his  guest  to  the  gate,  walking  rather  de- 
murely and  shamefacedly  by  his  side,  as  he  gathered 
his  attendants  in  the  court,  and  there  mounted  his 
charger,  the  Eowsky  ordered  his  trumpets  to  sound, 
and  scornfully  flung  a  largesse  of  gold  among  the 
servitors  and  men-at-arms  of  the  house  of  Cleves. 
who  were  marshalled  in  the  court.  '•'  Farewell.  Sir 
Prince,"  said  he  to  his  host ;  "  I  quit  you  now  sud- 
denly ;  but  remember,  it  is  not  my  last  visit  to  the 
Castle  of  Cleves  :  "  andT  ordering  his  band  to  play 
"  See  the  Conquering  Hero  comes."  he  clattered  away 
through  the  drawbridge.  The  Princess  Helena  was 
not  present  at  his  departure ;  and  the  venerable 
Prince  of  Cleves  looked  rather  moody  and  chap- 
fallen  when  his  guest  left  him.  He  visited  all  the 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  171 

castle  defences  pretty  accurately  that  night,  and 
inquired  of  his  officers  the  state  of  the  ammunition, 
provision,  &c.  He  said  nothing ;  but  the  Princess 
Helena's  maid  did :  and  everybody  knew  that  the 
Rowsky  had  made  his  proposals,  had  been  rejected, 
and,  getting  up  in  a  violent  fury,  had  called  for  his 
people,  and  sworn  by  his  great  gods  that  he  would 
not  enter  the  castle  again  until  he  rode  over  the 
breach,  lance  in  hand,  the  conqueror  of  Cleves  and 
all  belonging  to  it. 

No  little  consternation  was  spread  through  the 
garrison  at  the  news.  For  everybody  knew  the 
Rowsky  to  be  one  of  the  most  intrepid  and  powerful 
soldiers  in  all  Germany, — one  of  the  most  skilful 
generals.  Generous  to  extravagance  to  his  own  fol- 
lowers, he  was  ruthless  to  the  enemy  ;  and  a  hundred 
stories  were  told  of  the  dreadful  barbarities  exercised 
by  him  in  several  towns  and  castles  which  he  had 
captured  and  sacked.  And  poor  Helena  had  the 
pain  of  thinking,  that  in  consequence  of  her  refusal 
she  was  dooming  all  the  men,  women,  and  children 
of  the  principality  to  indiscriminate  and  horrible 
slaughter. 

The  dreadful  surmises  regarding  a  war  received 
in  a  few  days  dreadful  confirmation.  It  was  noon, 
and  the  worthy  Prince  of  Cleves  was  taking  his  din- 
ner (though  the  honest  warrior  had  little  appetite  for 
that  meal  for  some  time  past),  when  trumpets  were 


172  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

heard  at  the  gate  ;  and  presently  the  herald  of  the 
Rowsky  of  Donnerblitz,  clad  in  a  tabard  on  which 
the  arms  of  the  Count  were  blazoned,  entered  the 
dining-hall.  A  page  bore  a  steel  gauntlet  on  a  cush- 
ion ;  Bleu  Sanglier  had  his  hat  on  his  head.  The 
Prince  of  Cleves  put  on  his  own  as  the  herald  came 
up  to  the  chair  of  state  where  the  Sovereign  sat. 

"  Silence  for  Bleu  Sanglier,"  cried  the  Prince, 
gravely.  "  Say  your  say,  Sir  Herald." 

"  In  the  name  of  the  high  and  mighty  Rowsky, 
Prince  of  Donnerblitz,  Margrave  of  Eulenschrecken- 
stein,  Count  of  Krotenwald,  Schnauzestadt.  and  Gal- 
genhugel,  hereditary  Grand  Bootjack  of  the  Holy 
Roman  Empire — to  you,  Adolf  the  Twenty-third, 
Prince  of  Cleves,  I,  Bleu  Sanglier,  bring  war  and 
defiance.  Alone,  and  lance  to  lance,  or  twenty  to 
twenty  in  field  or  in  fort,  on  plain  or  on  mountain, 
the  noble  Rowsky  defies  you.  Here,  or  wherever  he 
shall  meet  you,  he  proclaims  war  to  the  death  between 
you  and  him.  In  token  whereof,  here  is  his  glove." 
And  taking  the  steel  glove  from  the  page,  Bleu  Boar 
flung  it  clanging  on  the  marble  floor. 

The  Princess  Helena  turned  deadly  pale  :  but  the 
Prince  with  a  good  assurance  flung  down  his  own 
glove,  calling  upon  some  one  to  raise  the  Rowsky's  ; 
which  Otto  accordingly  took  up  and  presented  to  him, 
on  his  knee. 

"  Boteler,  fill  my  goblet,"  said  the  Prince  to  that 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  173 

functionary,  who,  clothed  in  tight  black  hose  with  a 
white  kerchief,  and  a  napkin  on  his  dexter  arm.  stood 
obsequiously  by  his  master's  chair.  The  goblet  was 
filled  with  Malvoisie  j  it  held  about  three  quarts  ;  a 
precious  golden  hanap  carved  by  the  cunning  artificer, 
Benvenuto  the  Florentine. 

"  Drink,  Bleu  Sanglier,"  said  the  Prince.  "  and 
put  the  goblet  in  thy  bosom.  Wear  this  chain, 
furthermore,  for  my  sake."  And  so  saying,  Prince 
Adolf  flung  a  precious  chain  of  emeralds  round  the 
herald's  neck.  "  An  invitation  to  battle  was  ever  a 
welcome  call  to  Adolf  of  Cleves."  So  saying,  and 
bidding  his  people  take  good  care  of  Bleu  Sanglier's 
retinue,  the  Prince  left  the  hall  with  his  daughter. 
All  were  marvelling  at  his  dignity,  courage,  and 
generosity. 

But,  though  affecting  unconcern,  the  mind  of 
Prince  Adolf  was  far  from  tranquil.  He  was  no 
longer  the  stalwart  knight  who,  in  the  reign  of  Stan- 
islaus Augustus,  had,  with  his  naked  fist,  beaten  a 
lion  to  death  in  three  minutes  ;  and  alone  had  kept 
the  postern  of  Peterwaradin  for  two  hours  against 
seven  hundred  Turkish  janissaries,  who  were  assail- 
ing it.  Those  deeds  which  had  made  the  heir  of 
Cleves  famous  were  done  thirty  years  syne.  A  free 
liver  since  he  had  come  into  his  principality,  and  of  a 
lazy  turn,  he  had  neglected  the  athletic  exercises 
which  had  made  him  in  youth  so  famous  a  champion. 


174  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

and  indolence  had  borne  its  usual  fruits.  He  tried 
his  old  battle-sword — that  famous  blade  with  which. 
in  Palestine,  he  had  cut  an  elephant-driver  in  two 
pieces,  and  split  asunder  the  skull  of  the  elephant 
which  he  rode.  Adolf  of  Cleves  could  scarcely  now 
lift  the  weapon  over  his  head.  He  tried  his  armour. 
It  was  too  tight  for  him.  And  the  old  soldier  burst 
into  tears,  when  he  found  he  could  not  buckle  it. 
Such  a  man  was  not  fit  to  encounter  the  terrible 
Rowsky  in  single  combat. 

Nor  could  he  hope  to  make  head  against  him  for 
any  time  in  the  field.  The  Prince's  territories  were 
small.  His  vassals  proverbially  lazy  and  peaceable. 
His  treasury  empty.  The  dismallest  prospects  were 
before  him  :  and  he  passed  a  sleepless  night  writing 
to  his  friends  for  succour,  and  calculating  with  his 
secretary  the  small  amount  of  the  resources  which  he 
could  bring  to  aid  him  against  his  advancing  and 
powerful  enemy. 

Helena's  pillow  that  evening  was  also  unvisited 
by  slumber.  She  lay  awake  thinking  of  Otto — think- 
ing of  the  danger  and  the  ruin  her  refusal  to  marry 
had  brought  upon  her  dear  Papa.  Otto,  too,  slept 
not:  but  his  waking  thoughts  were  brilliant  and 
heroic ;  the  noble  Childe  thought  how  he  should 
defend  the  Princess,  and  win  los  and  honour  in  the 
ensuing  combat  I 


A    LEGEND    OP    THE    RHINE.  175 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE       CHAMPION. 

AND  now  the  noble  Cleves  began  in  good  earnest 
to  prepare  his  castle  for  the  threatened  siege.  He 
gathered  in  all  the  available  cattle  round  the  property, 
and  the  pigs  round  many  miles  ;  and  a  dreadful 
slaughter  of  horned  and  snouted  animals  took  place. 
— the  whole  castle  resounding  with  the  lowing  of  the 
oxen  and  the  squeaks  of  the  gruntlings,  destined  to 
provide  food  for  the  garrison.  These,  when  slain, 
(her  gentle  spirit,  of  course,  would  not  allow  of  her 
witnessing  that  disagreeable  operation,)  the  lovely 
Helena,  with  the  assistance  of  her  maidens,  carefully 
salted  and  pickled.  Corn  was  brought  in  in  great 
quantities,  the  Prince  paying  for  the  same  when  he 
had  money,  giving  bills  when  he  could  get  credit,  or 
occasionally,  marry,  sending  out  a  few  stout  men-at- 
arms  to  forage,  who  brought  in  wheat  without  money 
or  credit  either.  The  charming  Princess,  amidst  the 
intervals  of  her  labours,  went  about  encouraging  the 
garrison,  who  vowed  to  a  man  they  would  die  for  a 
single  sweet  smile  of  hers  ;  and  in  order  to  make 
their  inevitable  sufferings  as  easy  as  possible  to  the 
gallant  fellows,  she  and  the  apothecaries  got  ready  a 


176  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

plenty  of  efficacious  simples,  and  scraped  a  vast  quan- 
tity of  lint  to  bind  their  warriors'  wounds  witlial. 
All  the  fortifications  were  strengthened ;  the  fosses 
carefully  filled  with  spikes  and  water ;  large  stones 
placed  over  the  gates,  convenient  to  tumble  on  the 
heads  of  the  assaulting  parties  ;  and  cauldrons  pre- 
pared, with  furnaces  to  melt  up  pitch,  brimstone, 
boiling  oil,  &c.,  wherewith  hospitably  to  receive  them. 
Having  the  keenest  eye  in  the  whole  garrison,  young 
Otto  was  placed  on  the  topmost  tower,  to  watch  for 
the  expected^coming  of  the  beleaguering  host. 

They  were  seen  only  too  soon.  Long  ranks  of 
shining  spears  were  seen  glittering  in  the  distance, 
and  the  army  of  the  Rowsky  soon  made  its  appear- 
ance in  battle's  magnificently  stern  array.  The  tents 
of  the  renowned  Chief  and  his  numerous  warriors 
were  pitched  out  of  arrow-shot  of  the  castle,  but  in 
fearful  proximity  ;  and  when  his  army  had  taken  up 
its  position,  an  officer  with  a  flag  of  truce  and  a 
trumpet  was  seen  advancing  to  the  castle-gate.  It 
was  the  same  herald  who  had  previously  borne  "  his 
master's "  defiance  to  the  Prince  of  Cleves.  He 
came  once  more  to  the  castle-gate,  and  there  pro- 
claimed that  the  noble  Count  of  Eulenschreckenstein 
was  in  arms  without,  ready  to  do  battle  with  the 
Prince  of  Cleves,  or  his  champion ;  that  he  would 
remain  in  arms  for  three  days,  ready  for  combat. 
If  no  man  met  him,  at  the  end  of  that  period  he 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  177 

would  deliver  an  assault,  and  would  give  quarter  to 
no  single  soul  in  the  garrison.  So  saying,  the  herald 
nailed  his  lord's  gauntlet  on  the  castle-gate.  As 
before,  the  Prince  flung  him  over  another  glove  from 
the  wall ;  though  how  he  was  to  defend  himself  from 
such  a  warrior,  or  get  a  champion,  or  resist  the 
pitiless  assault  that  must  follow,  the  troubled  old 
nobleman  knew  not  in  the  least. 

The  Princess  Helen  passed  the  night  in  the 
Chapel,  vowing  tons  of  wax-candles  to  all  the  patron 
saints  of  the  House  of  Cleves,  if  they-would  raise 
her  up  a  defender. 

But  how  did  the  noble  girl's  heart  sink — how 
were  her  notions  of  the  purity  of  man  shaken  within 
her  gentle  bosom,  by  the  dread  intelligence  which 
reached  her  the  next  morning  after  the  defiance  of 
the  E-owsky.  At  roll-call  it  was  discovered  that  he 
on  whom  she  principally  relied — he  whom  her  fond 
heart  had  singled  out  as  her  champion,  had  proved 
faithless !  Otto,  the  degenerate  Otto,  had  fled ! 
His  comrade,  Wolfgang,  had  gone  with  him. — A  rope 
was  found  dangling  from  the  casement  of  their  cham- 
ber, and  they  must  have  swum  the  moat  and  passed 
over  to  the  enemy  in  the  darkness  of  the  previous 
night.  "  A  pretty  lad  was  this  fair  spoken  archer  of 
thine  !  "  said  the  Prince  her  father  to  her  ;  "  and  a 
pretty  kettle  of  fish  hast  thou  cooked  for  the  fondest 
8* 


178  A    LEGEND    OF   THE    RHINE. 

of  fathers."  She  retired  weeping  to  her  apartment. 
Never  before  had  that  young  heart  felt  so  wretched. 

That  morning,  at  nine  o'clock,  as  they  were  going 
to  breakfast,  the  Rowsky's  trumpets  sounded.  Clad 
in  complete  armour,  and  mounted  on  his  enormous 
piebald  charger,  he  came  out  of  his  pavilion,  and 
rode  slowly  up  and  down  in  front  of  the  Castle.  He 
was  ready  there  to  meet  a  champion. 

Three  times  each  day  did  the  odious  trumpet  sound 
the  same  notes  of  defiance.  Thrice  daily  did  the  steel- 
clad  Rowsky  come  forth  challenging  the  combat. 
The  first  day  passed,  and  there  was  no  answer  to  his 
summons.  The  second  day  came  and  went,  but  no 
champion  had  risen  to  defend.  The  taunt  of  his 
shrill  clarion  remained  without  answer ;  and  the  sun 
went  down  upon  the  wretchedest  father  and  daughter 
in  all  the  land  of  Christendom. 

The  trumpets  sounded  an  hour  after  sunrise,  an 
hour  after  noon,  and  an  hour  before  sunset.  The 
third  day  came,  but  with  it  brought  no  hope.  The 
first  and  second  summons  met  no  response.  At  five 
o'clock  the  old  Prince  called  his  daughter  and  blessed 
her.  "  I  go  to  meet  this  Rowsky,"  said  he.  "  It 
may  be,  we  shall  meet  no  more,  my  Helen — my  child 
— the  innocent  cause  of  all  this  grief.  If  I  shall  fall 
to  night  the  Rowsky's  victim,  'twill  be  that  life  is 
nothing  without  honour."  And  so  saying,  he  put  in- 
to her  hands  a  dagger,  and  bade  her  sheathe  it  in  her 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  179 

own  breast  so  soon  as  the  terrible  champion  had  car- 
ried the  Castle  by  storm. 

This  Helen  most  faithfully  promised  to  do  ;  and 
her  aged  father  retired  to  his  armoury,  and  donned 
his  ancient  war-worn  corslet.  It  had  borne  the  shock 
of  a  thousand  lances  ere  this,  but  it  was  now  so  tight 
as  almost  to  choke  the  knightly  wearer. 

The  last  trumpet  sounded — tantara  !  tantara  ! — 
its  shrill  call  rang  over  the  wide  plains,  and  the  wide 
plains  gave  back  no  answer.  Again  ! — but  when  its 
notes  died  away,  there  was  only  a  mournful,  an  awful 
silence.  "  Farewell,  my  child,"  said  the  Prince,  bul- 
kily  lifting  himself  into  his  battle-saddle.  "  Remem- 
ber the  dagger.  Hark  !  the  trumpet  sounds  for  the 
third  time.  Open,  warders !  Sound,  trumpeters ! 
And  good  Saint  Benedict,  guard  the  right.5' 

But  Puffendorf,  the  trumpeter,  had  not  leisure 
to  lift  the  trumpet  to  his  lips ;  when,  hark !  from1  with- 
out there  came  another  note  of  another  clarion ! — a 
distant  note  at  first,  then  swelling  fuller.  Presently 
in  brilliant  variations,  the  full  rich  notes  of  the 
"  Huntsman's  Chorus"  came  clearly  over  the  breeze ; 
and  a  thousand  voices  of  the  crowd  gazing  over  the 
gate,  exclaimed — "  A  champion  !  a  champion  !  " 

And,  indeed,  a  champion  had  come.  Issuing 
from  the  forest  came  a  knight  and  squire  :  the  knight 
gracefully  cantering  an  elegant  cream-coloured  Ara- 
bian of  prodigious  power — the  squire  mounted  on  an 


180  A    LEGEND    OF   THE    RHINE. 

unpretending  grey  cob,  which  nevertheless  was  an 
animal  of  considerable  strength  and  sinew.  It  was 
the  squire  who  blew  the  trumpet  through  the  bars  of 
his  helmet ;  the  knight's  visor  was  completely  down. 
A  small  prince's  coronet  of  gold,  from  which  rose 
three  pink  ostrich  feathers,  marked  the  warrior's 
rank ;  his  blank  shield  bore  no  cognizance.  As 
gracefully  poising  his  lance  he  rode  into  the  green 
space  where  the  Rowsky's  tents  were  pitched,  the 
hearts  of  all  present  beat  with  anxiety,  and  the  poor 
Prince  of  Cleves,  especially,  had  considerable  doubts 
about  his  new  champion.  "  So  slim  a  figure  as  that 
can  never  compete  with  Donnerblitz,"  said  he  moodi- 
ly, to  his  daughter ;  "  but  whoever  he  be,  the  fellow 
puts  a  good  face  on  it,  and  rides  like  a  man.  See,  he 
has  touched  the  Rowsky's  shield  with  the  point  of  his 
lance  !  By  Saint  Bendigo,  a  perilous  venture  ! " 

Tlie  unknown  knight  had  indeed  defied  the  Row- 
sky  to  the  death,  as  the  Prince  of  Cleves  remarked 
from  the  battlement  where  he  and  his  daughter  stood 
to  witness  the  combat ;  and  so,  having  defied  his  ene- 
my, the  Incognito  galloped  round  under  the  Castle 
wall,  bowing  elegantly  to  the  lovely  Princess  there, 
and  then  took  his  ground  and  waited  for  the  foe. 
His  armour  blazed  in  the  sunshine  as  he  sat  there, 
motionless  on  his  creain-coloured  steed.  He  looked 
like  one  of  those  fairy  knights  one  has  read  of — one 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  181 

of  those  celestial  champions  who  decided  so  many 
victories  before  the  invention  of  gunpowder. 

The  Rowsky's  horse  was  speedily  brought  to  the 
door  of  his  pavilion  ;  and  that  redoubted  warrior, 
blazing  in  a  suit  of  magnificent  brass  armour,  clatter- 
ed into  his  saddle.  Long  waves  of  blood-red  feathers 
bristled  over  his  helmet,  which  was  farther  ornament- 
ed by  two  huge  horns  of  the  Aurochs.  His '  lance 
was  painted  white  and  red,  and  he  whirled  the  prodi- 
gious beam  in  the  air  and  caught  it  with  savage  glee. 
He  laughed  when  he  saw  the  slim  form  of  his  antag- 
onist ;  and  his  soul  rejoiced  to  meet  the  coming  bat- 
tle. He  dug  his  spurs  into  the  enormous  horse  he 
rode.  The  enormous  horse  snorted,  and  squealed, 
too,  with  fierce  pleasure.  He  jerked  and  curvetted 
him  with  a  brutal  playfulness,  and  after  a  few  min- 
utes' turning  and  wheeling,  during  which  everybody 
had  the  leisure  to  admire  the  perfection  of  his  equita- 
tion, he  cantered  round  to  a  point  exactly  opposite 
his  enemy,  and  pulled  up  his  eager  charger. 

The  old  Prince  on  the  battlement  was  so  eager 
for  the  combat,  that  he  seemed  quite  to  forget  the 
Ganger  which  menaced  himself,  should  his  slim  cham- 
pion be  discomfited  by  the  tremendous  knight  of  Don- 
nerblitz.  "  Go  it  ! "  said  he,  flinging  his  truncheon 
into  the  ditch  ;  and  at  the  word,  the  two  warriors 
rushed  with  whirring  rapidity  at  each  other. 

And  now  ensued  a  combat  so  terrible,  that  a  weak  fe- 


182  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

male  hand,  like  that  of  her  who  pens  this  tale  of 
chivalry,  can  never  hope  to  do  justice  to  the  terrific 
theme.  You  have  seen  two  engines  on  the  Great 
Western  Line  rush  past  each  other  with  a  pealing 
scream  ?  So  rapidly  did  the  two  warriors  gallop  to- 
wards one  another,  the  feathers  of  either  streamed 
yards  behind  their  backs  as  they  converged.  Their 
shock  as  they  met  was  that  of  two  cannon-balls  ;  the 
mighty  horses  trembled  and  reeled  with  the  concus- 
sion ;  the  lance  aimed  at  the  Rowsky's  helmet  bore 
off  the  coronet,  the  horns,  the  helmet  itself,  and  hurl- 
ed them  to  an  incredible  distance :  a  piece  of  the 
Rowsky's  left  ear  was  carried  off  on  the  point  of  the 
nameless  warrior's  weapon.  How  had  he  fared  ? 
His  adversary's  weapon  had  glanced  harmless  along 
the  blank  surface  of  his  polished  buckler  ;  and  the 
victory  so  far  was  with  him. 

The  expression  of  the  Rowsky's  face,  as.  bare- 
headed, he  glared  on  his  enemy  with  fierce  blood- 
shot eyeballs,  was  one  worthy  of  a  demon.  The  im- 
precatory expressions  which  he  made  use  of  can  never 
be  copied  by  a  feminine  pen. 

His  opponent  magnanimously  declined  to  take 
advantage  of  the  opportunity  thus  offered  him  of 
finishing  the  combat,  by  splitting  his  opponent's  skull 
with  his  curtal-axe,  and,  riding  back  to  his  starting- 
place,  bent  his  lance's  point  to  the  ground,  in  token 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  183 

that  he  would  wait  until  the  Count  of  Eulenschrecken- 
stein  was  helineted  afresh. 

"  Blessed  Bendigo  !  "  cried  the  Prince,  "  thou  art 
a  gallant  lance  ;  but  why  didst  not  rap  the  schelm's 
brain  out  ?  " 

"  Bring  me  a  fresh  helmet ! "  yelled  the  Rowsky. 
Another  casque  was  brought  to  him  by  his  trembling 
squire. 

As  soon  as  he  had  braced  it,  he  drew  his  great 
flashing  sword  from  his  side,  and  rushed  at  his  enemy, 
roaring  hoarsely  his  cry  of  battle.  The  unknown 
knight's  sword  was  unsheathed  in  a  moment,  and  at 
the  next  the  two  blades  were  clanking  together  the 
dreadful  music  of  the  combat ! 

The  Donnerblitz  wielded  his  with  his  usual  savage- 
ness  and  activity.  It  whirled  round  his  adversary's 
head  with  frightful  rapidity.  Now  it  carried  away  a 
feather  of  his  plume ;  now  it  shore  off  a  leaf  of  his 
coronet.  The  flail  of  the  thrasher  does  not  fall  more 
swiftly  upon  the  corn.  For  many  minutes  it  was  the 
Unknown's  only  task  to  defend  himself  from  the 
tremendous  activity  of  the  enemy. 

But  even  the  Rowsky's  strength  would  slacken 
after  exertion.  The  blows  began  to  fall  less  thick 
anon,  and  the  point  of  the  unknown  knight  began  to 
make  dreadful  play.  It  found  and  penetrated  every 
joint  of  the  Dounerblitz's  armour.  Now  it  nicked 
him  in  the  shoulder,  where  the  vambrace  was  buckled 


184  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

to  the  corslet ;  now  it  bored  a  shrewd  hole  under  the 
light  brassart,  and  blood  followed ;  now.  with  fatal 
dexterity,  it  darted  through  the  vizor,  and  came  back 
to  the  recover  deeply  tinged  with  blood.  A  scream 
of  rage  followed  the  last  thrust ;  and  no  wonder  ; — it 
had  penetrated  the  Rowsky's  left  eye. 

His  blood  was  trickling  through  a  dozen  orifices  ; 
he  was  almost  choking  in  his  helmet  with  loss  of 
breath,  and  loss  of  blood,  and  rage.  Gasping  with 
fury,  he  drew  back  his  horse,  flung  his  great  sword  at 
his  opponent's  head,  and  once  more  plunged  at  him, 
wielding  his  curtal-axe. 

Then  you  should  have  seen  the  unknown  knight 
employing  the  same  dreadful  weapon  !  Hitherto  he 
had  been  on  his  defence  ;  now  he  began  the  attack ; 
and  the  gleaming  axe  whirred  in  his  hand  like  a  reed, 
but  descended  like  a  thunderbolt !  "  Yield !  yield  ! 
Sir  Rowsky,"  shouted  he,  in  a  calm,  clear  voice. 

A  blow  dealt  madly  at  his  head  was  the  reply. 
'Twas  the  last  blow  that  the  Count  of  Eulenschrec- 
kenstein  ever  struck  in  battle  !  The  curse  was  on 
his  lips  as  the  crashing  steel  descended  into  his  brain, 
and  split  it  in  two.  He  rolled  like  a  log  from  his 
horse  ;  and  his  enemy's  knee  was  in  a  moment  on  his 
chest,  and  the  dagger  of  mercy  at  his  throat,  as  the 
knight  once  more  called  upon  him  to  yield. 

But  there  was  no  answer  from  within  the  helmet. 
When  it  was  withdrawn,  the  teeth  were  crunched  to- 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE.  185 

gether ;  the  mouth  that  should  have  spoken,  grinned 
a  ghastly  silence  :  one  eye  still  glared  with  hate  and 
fury,  but  it  was  glazed  with  the  film  of  death  ! 

The  red  orb  of  the  sun  was  just  then  dipping  into 
the  Rhine.  The  unknown  knight,  vaulting  once  more 
into  his  saddle,  made  a  graceful  obeisance  to  the 
Prince  of  Cleves  and  his  daughter,  without  a  word, 
and  galloped  back  into  the  forest,  whence  he  had 
issued  an  hour  before  sunset. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  consternation  which  ensued  on  the  death  of 
the  Rowsky,  speedily  sent  all  his  camp-followers, 
army,  &c.,  to  the  right-about.  They  struck  their 
tents  at  the  first  news  of  his  discomfiture ;  and  each 
man  laying  hold  of  what  he  could,  the  whole  of  the 
gallant  force  which  had  marched  under  his  banner  in 
the  morning  had  disappeared  ere  the  sun  rose. 

On  that  night,  as  it  may  be  imagined,  the  gates 
of  the  Castle  of  Cleves  were  not  shut.  Everybody 
was  free  to  come  in.  Wine-butts  were  broached  in 
all  the  courts  ;  the  pickled  meat  prepared  in  such  lots 
for  the  siege  was  distributed  among  the  people,  who 
crowded  to  congratulate  their  beloved  Sovereign  on 
his  victory ;  and  the  Prince,  as  was  customary  with 


186  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

that  good  man,  who  never  lost  an  opportunity  of  giv- 
ing a  dinner-party,  had  a  splendid  entertainment 
made  ready  for  the  upper  classes,  the  whole  conclud- 
ing with  a  tasteful  display  of  fireworks. 

In  the  midst  of  these  entertainments,  our  old 
friend  the  Count  of  Hombourg  arrived  at  the  Castle. 
The  stalwart  old  warrior  swore  by  Saint  Bugo  that 
he  was  grieved  the  killing  of  the  Rowsky  had  been 
taken  out  of  his  hand.  The  laughing  Cleves  vowed 
by  Saint  Bendigo,  Hombourg  could  never  have  finish- 
ed off  his  enemy  so  satisfactorily  as  the  unknown 
knight  had  just  done. 

But  who  was  he  ?  was  the  question  which  now 
agitated  the  bosom  of  these  two  old  nobles.  How  to 
find  him — how  to  reward  the  champion  and  restorer 
of  the  honour  and  happiness  of  Cleves  1  They  agreed 
over  supper  that  he  should  be  sought  for  everywhere. 
Beadles  were  sent  round  the  principal  cities  within 
fifty  miles,  and  the  description  of  the  knight  advertis- 
ed in  the  Journal  de  Francfort  and  the  Allgemeine 
Zeitung.  The  hand  of  the  Princess  Helena  was  so- 
lemnly offered  to  him  in  these  advertisements,  with 
the  reversion  of  the  Prince  of  Cleves's  splendid  though 
somewhat  dilapidated  property. 

"  But  we  don't  know  him,  my  dear  papa,"  faintly 
ejaculated  that  young  lady.  "  Some  impostor  may 
come  in  a  suit  of  plain  armour,  and  pretend  that  he 
was  the  champion  who  overcame  the  Rowsky  (a  Prince 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  187 

who  bad  his  faults  certainly,  but  whose  attachment 
for  me  I  can  never  forget ;  and  how  are  you  to  say 
whether  be  is  the  real  knight  or  not  ?  There  are  so 
many  deceivers  in  this  world,"  added  the  Princess  in 
tears.  "  that  one  can't  be  too  cautious  now."  The 
fact  is,  that  she  was  thinking  of  the  desertion  of  Otto 
in  the  morning,  by  which  instance  of  faithlessness  her 
heart  was  well-nigh  broken. 

As  for  that  youth  and  his  comrade  Wolfgang,  to 
the  astonishment  of  everybody  at  their  impudence, 
they  came  to  the  archers'  mess  that  night,  as  if  no- 
thing had  happened  :  got  their  supper,  partaking  both 
of  meat  and  drink  most  plentifully  :  fell  asleep  when 
their  comrades  began  to  describe  the  events  of  the 
day,  and  the  admirable  achievements  of  the  unknown 
warrior ;  and,  turning  into  their  hammocks,  did  not 
appear  on  parade  in  the  morning  until  twenty  minutes 
after  the  names  were  called. 

When  the  Prince  of  Cleves  heard  of  the  return 
of  these  deserters  he  was  in  a  towering  passion. 
"  Where  were  you,  fellows,"  shouted  he,  "  during  the 
time  my  Castle  was  at  its  utmost  need  ?" 

Otto  replied,  "  We  were  out  on  particular  busi- 
ness." 

"  Does  a  soldier  leave  his  post  on  the  day  of  battle, 
Sir?"  exclaimed  the  Prince.  "  You  know  the  reward 
of  such — Death  !  and  death  you  merit.  But  you  are 
a  soldier  only  of  yesterday,  and  yesterday's  victory 


188  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE. 

has  made  me  merciful.  Hanged  you  shall  not  be,  as 
you  merit — only  flogged,  both  of  you.  Parade  the 
men,  Colonel  Tickelstern,  after  breakfast,  and  give 
these  scoundrels  five  hundred  a  piece." 

You  should  have  seen  how  young  Otto  bounded 
when  the  information  was  thus  abruptly  conveyed  to 
him.  "  Flog  we,"  cried  he.  «  Flog  Otto,  of—." 

"  Not  so,  my  father,"  said  the  Princess  Helena, 
who  had  been  standing  by  during  the  conversation, 
and  who  had  looked  at  Otto  all  the  while  with  the 
most  ineffable  scorn.  "  Not  so,  although  these  persons 
have  forgotten  their  duty,"  (she  laid  a  particularly 
sarcastic  emphasis  on  the  word  persons.)  "  we  have 
had  no  need  cxf  their  service,  and  have  luckily  found 
others  more  faithful.  You  promised  your  daughter  a 
boon,  papa  ;  it  is  the  pardon  of  these  two  persons. 
Let  them  go,  and  quit  a  service  they  have  disgraced ; 
a  mistress — that  is,  a  master — they  have  deceived." 

"  Drum  'em  out  of  the  Castle,  Tickelstern  ;  strip 
their  uniforms  from  their  backs,  and  never  let  me  hear 
of  the  scoundrels  again."  So  saying,  the  old  Prince 
angrily  turned  on  his  heel  to  breakfast,  leaving  the 
two  young  men  to  the  fun  and  derision  of  their  sur- 
rounding comrades. 

The  noble  Count  of  Hombourg,  who  was  taking 
his  usual  airing  on  the  ramparts  before  breakfast, 
came  up  at  this  juncture,  and  asked  what  was  the  row  ? 
Otto  blushed  when  he  saw  him.  and  turned  awav  ra- 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  189 

pidly ;  but  the  Count,  too,  catching  a  glimpse  of  him, 
with  a  hundred  exclamations  of  joyful  surprise  seized 
upon  the  lad,  hugged  him  to  his  manly  breast,  kissed 
him  most  affectionately,  and  almost  burst  into  tears 
as  he  embraced  him.  For,  in  sooth,  the  good  Count 
had  thought  his  godson  long  ere  this  at  the  bottom 
of  the  silver  Rhine. 

The  Prince  of  Cleves,  who  had  come  to  the  break- 
fast parlour  window  (to  invite  his  guest  to  enter,  as 
the  tea  was  made),  beheld  this  strange  scene  from  the 
window,  as  did  the  lovely  tea-maker  likewise,  with 
breathless  and  beautiful  agitation.  The  old  Count 
and  the  archer  strolled  up  and  down  the  battlements 
in  deep  conversation.  By  the  gestures  of  surprise 
and  delight  exhibited  by  the  former,  'twas  easy  to 
see  the  young  archer  was  conveying  some  very  strange 
and  pleasing  news  to  him,  though  the  nature  of  the 
conversation  was  not  allowed  to  transpire. 

"  A  godson  of  mine,"  said  the  noble  Count,  when 
interrogated  over  his  muffins.  "  I  know  his  family  ; 
worthy  people  ;  sad  scapegrace  ;  run  away  ;  parents 
longing  for  him  ;  glad  you  did  not  flog  him  ;  devil  to 
pay,  and  so  forth."  The  Count  was  a  man  of  few- 
words,  and  told  his  tale  in  this  brief,  artless  manner. 
But  why,  at  its  conclusion,  did  the  gentle  Helena 
leave  the  room,  her  eyes  filled  with  tears  ?  She  left 
the  room  once  more  to  kiss  a  certain  lock  of  yellow 


190          A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 

hair  she  had  pilfered.  A  dazzling,  delicious  thought, 
a  strange  wild  hope,  arose  in  her  soul  ! 

When  she  appeared  again,  she  made  some  side- 
handed  inquiries  regarding  Otto  (with  that  gentle 
artifice  oft  employed  by  women) ;  but  he  was  gone. 
He  and  his  companion  were  gone.  The  Count  of 
Hombourg  had  likewise  taken  his  departure,  under 
pretext  of  particular  business.  How  lonely  the  vast 
castle  seemed  te  Helena,  now  that  he  was  no  longer 
there.  The  transactions  of  the  last  few  days  ;  the 
beautiful  archer-boy ;  the  offer  from  the  Rowsky 
(always  an  event  in  a  young  lady's  life) ;  the  siege 
of  the  castle  ;  the  death  of  her  truculent  admirer  ; 
all  seemed  like  a  fevered  dream  to  her  ;  all  was 
passed  away,  and  had  left  no  trace  behind.  No 
trace  ?  yes  !  one  ;  a  little  insignificant  lock  of  golden 
hair  over  which  the  young  creature  wept  so  much 
that  she  put  it  out  of  curl :  passing  hours  and  hours 
in  the  summer-honse.  where  the  operation  had  been 
performed. 

On  the  second  day  (it  is  my  belief  she  would  have 
gone  into  a  consumption  and  died  of  languor,  if  the 
event  had  been  delayed  a  day  longer)  a  messenger, 
with  a  trumpet,  brought  a  letter  in  haste  to  the 
Prince  of  Cleves,  who  was,  as  usual,  taking  refresh- 
ment. "  To.the  High  and  Mighty  Prince,"  &c.,  the 
letter  ran.  "  The  Champion  who  had  the  honour  of 
engaging  on  Wednesday  last  with  his  late  Excellency 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  191 

the  Rowsky  of  Donnerblitz  presents  his  compliments 
to  H.S.H.  the  Prince  of  Cleves.  Through  the  me- 
dium of  the  public  prints  the  C.  has  been  made 
acquainted  with  the  flattering  proposal  of  His  Serene 
Highness  relative  to  a  union  between  himself  (the 
Champion)  and  Her  Serene  Highness  the  Princess 
Helena  of  Cleves.  The  Champion  accepts  with 
pleasure  that  polite  invitation,  and  will  have  the 
honour  of  waiting  upon  the  Prince  and  Princess  of 
Cleves  about  half  an  hour  after  the  receipt  of  this 
letter." 

"  Tol  lol  de  rol,  girl,"  shouted  the  Prince  with 
heartfelt  joy.  (Have  you  not  remarked,  dear  friend, 
how  often  in  novel  books,  and  on  the  stage,  joy  is 
announced  by  the  above  burst  of  insensate  mono- 
syllables ?)  "  Tol  lol  de  rol.  Don  thy  best  kirtle, 
child  ;  thy  husband  will  be  here  anon."  And  Helena 
retired  to  arrange  her  toilet  for  this  awful  event  in 
the  life  of  a  young  woman.  When  she  returned, 
attired  to  welcome  her  defender,  her  young  cheek 
was  as  pale  as  the  white  satin  slip  and  orange  sprigs 
she  wore. 

She  was  scarce  seated  on  the  dais  by  her  father's 
side,  when  a  huge  flourish  of  trumpets  from  without 
proclaimed  the  arrival  of  the  Champion.  Helena 
felt  quite  sick  ;  a  draught  of  ether  was  necessary  to 
restore  her  tranquillity. 

The  great  door  was  flung  open.     He  entered, — 


192  A    LEGEND    OP    THE    RHINK. 

the  same  tall  warrior,  slim,  and  beautiful,  blazing  in 
shining  steel.  He  approached  the  Prince's  throne, 
supported  on  each  side  by  a  friend  likewise  in 
armour.  He  knelt  gracefully  on  one  knee. 

"  I  come,"  said  he,  in  a  voice  trembling  with 
emotion,  "  to  claim,  as  per  advertisement,  the  hand 
of  the  lovely  Lady  Helena  ;  "  and  he  held  out  a  copy 
of  the  Allgemeine  Zeitung,  as  he  spoke. 

"  Art  thou  noble,  Sir  Knight?  "  asked  the  Prince 
of  Cleves. 

"  As  noble  as  yourself,"  answered  the  kneeling 
steel. 

"  Who  answers  for  thee  ?  " 

"  I,  Carl,  Margrave  of  Godesberg,  his  father ! " 
said  the  knight  on  the  right  hand,  lifting  up  his 
visor. 

"  And  I — Ludwig,  Count  of  Hombourg,  his  god- 
father ! "  said  the  knight  on  the  left  doing  likewise. 

The  kneeling  knight  lifted  up  his  visor  now,  and 
looked  on  Helena. 

"  I  knew  it  was"  said  she,  and  fainted  as  she  saw 
Otto,  the  archer. 

But  she  was  soon  brought  to,  gentles,  as  I  have 
small  need  to  tell  ye.  In  a  very  few  days  after,  a 
great  marriage  took  place  at  Cleves,  under  the  pat- 
ronage of  Saint  Bugo.  Saint  Buffo,  and  Saint  Ben- 
digo.  After  the  marriage  ceremony,  the  happiest  and 
handsomest  pair  in  the  world  drove  off  in  a  chaise- 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE.  193 

and-four,  to  pass  the  honey-moon  at  Kissingen.  The 
Lady  Theodora,  whom  we  left  locked  up  in  her  con- 
vent a  long  while  since,  was  prevailed  to  come  back 
to  Godesberg,  where  she  was  reconciled  to  her  hus- 
band. Jealous  of  her  daughter-in-law,  she  idolized 
her  son,  and  spoiled  all  her  little  grandchildren.  And 
so  all  are  happy,  and  my  simple  tale  is  done. 

I  read  it  in  an  old — old  book,  in  a  mouldy  old 
circulating  library.  'Twas  written  in  the  French 
tongue,  by  the  noble  Alexandre  Dumas,  Marquis  de 
la  Pailleterie ;  but  'tis  probable  that  he  stole  it  from 
some  other,  and  that  the  other  had  filched  it  from  a 
former  tale-teller.  For  nothing  is  new  under  the  sun. 
Things  die  and  are  reproduced  only.  And  so  it  is 
that  the  forgotten  tale  of  the  great  Dumas  reappears 
under  the  signature  of 

WHISTLEBIVKIE,  N.  B.,  December  1. 

THERESA  MAC  WHIRTEIU 


REBECCA  AND  ROWENA. 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA, 


CHAPTEK  I. 

THE  OVERTURE. COMMENCEMENT  OF  THE  BUSINESS. 

WELL-BELOVED  novel  readers  and  gentle  patron- 
esses of  romance,  assuredly  it  has  often  occurred  to 
every  one  of  you,  that  the  books  we  delight  in  have 
very  unsatisfactory  conclusions,  and  end  quite  prema- 
turely with  page  320  of  the  third  volume.  At  that 
epoch  of  the  history  it  is  well  known  that  the  hero  ia 
seldom  more  than  thirty  years  old,  and  the  heroine 
by  consequence  some  seven  or  eight  years  younger ; 
and  I  would  ask  any  of  you  whether  it  is  fair  to  sup- 
pose that  people  after  the  above  age  have  nothing 
worthy  of  note  in  their  lives,  and  cease  to  exist 
as  they  drive  away  from  Saint  George's,  Hanover 
Square  ?  You,  dear  young  ladies,  who  get  your 
knowledge  of  life  from  the  circulating  library,  may 
be  led  to  imagine  that  when  the  marriage  business  is 


198  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

done,  and  Emilia  is  whisked  off  in  the  new  travelling 
carriage,  by  the  side  of  the  enraptured  Earl;  or 
Belinda,  breaking  away  from  the  tearful  embraces  of 
her  excellent  mother,  dries  her  own  lovely  eyes  upon 
the  throbbing  waistcoat  of  her  bridegroom — you  may 
be  apt,  I  say,  to  suppose  that  all  is  over  then,  that 
Emilia  and  the  Earl  are  going  to  be  happy  for  the 
rest  of  their  lives  in  his  Lordship's  romantic  castle 
in  the  north,  and  Belinda  and  her  young  clergyman 
to  enjoy  uninterrupted  bliss  in  their  rose-trellised 
parsonage  in  the  west  of  England :  but  some  there  be 
among  the  novel  reading  classes — old  experienced 
folks — who  know  better  than  this.  Some  there  be 
who  have  been  married,  and  found  that  they  have 
still  something  to  see  and  to  do  and  to  suffer  may- 
hap ;  and  that  adventures,  and  pains,  and  pleasures, 
and  taxes,  and  sunrises  and  settings,  and  the  business 
and  joys  and  griefs  of  life  go  on  after  as  before  the 
nuptial  ceremony. 

Therefore  I  say,  it  is  an  unfair  advantage,  which 
the  novelist  takes  of  hero  and  heroine,  as  of  his  inex- 
perienced reader,  to  say  good-bye  to  the  two  former. 
as  soon  as  ever  they  are  made  husband  and  wife  ;  and 
have, often  wished  that  additions  should  be  made  to 
all  works  of  fiction,  which  have  been  brought  to 
abrupt  terminations  in  the  manner  described ;  and 
that  we  should  hear  what  occurs  to  the  sober  mar- 
ried man.  as  well  as  to  the  ardent  bachelor :  to  the 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  199 

matron,  as  well  as  to  the  blushing  spinster.  And  in 
this  respect  I  admire  (and  would  desire  to  imitate) 
the  noble  and  prolific  French  author,  Alexandre 
Dumas,  Marquis  Davy  de  la  Pailleterie,  who  carries 
his  heroes  from  early  youth  down  to  the  most  venera- 
ble old  age  ;  and  does  not  let  them  rest,  until  they 
are  so  old,  that  it  is  full  time  the  poor  fellows  should 
get  a  little  peace  and  quiet.  A  hero  is  much  too 
valuable  a  gentleman  to  be  put  upon  the  retired  list, 
in  the  prime  and  vigour  of  his  youth  ;  and  I  wish  to 
know,  what  lady  among  us  would  like  to  be  put  on 
the  shelf,  and  thought  no  longer  interesting,  because 
she  has  a  family  growing  up,  and  is  four  or  five  and 
thirty  years  of  age  ?  I  have  known  ladies  at  sixty, 
with  hearts  as  tender,  and  ideas  as  romantic,  as  any 
young  misses'  of  sixteen.  Let  us  have  middle-aged 
novels  then,  as  well  as  your  extremely  juvenile 
legends:  let  the  young  ones  be  warned,  that  the 
old  folks  have  a  right  to  be  interesting :  and  that  a 
lady  may  continue  to  have  a  heart,  although  she  is 
somewhat  stouter  than  she  was  when  a  school  girl, 
and  a  man  his  feelings,  although  he  gets  his  hair 
from  Truefitt's. 

Thus  I  would  desire  that  the  biographies  of 
many  of  our  most  illustrious  personages  of  romance 
should  be  continued  by  fitting  hands,  and  that  they 
should  be  heard  of.  until  at  least  a  decent  age. — 
Lcok  at  Mr.  James's  heroes  ;  they  invariably  marry 


200  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

young.  Look  at  Mr.  Dickens's,  they  disappear  from 
the  scene  when  they  are  mere  chits.  I  trust  these 
authors,  who  are  still  alive,  will  see  the  propriety  of 
telling  us  something  more  about  people,  in  whom  we 
took  a  considerable  interest,  and  who  must  be  at  pre- 
sent, strong  and  hearty,  in  the  full  vigour  of  health 
and  intellect.  And  in  the  tales  of  the  great  Sir 
Walter,  (may  honour  be  to  his  name.)  I  am  sure 
there  are  a  number  of  people  who  are  untimely  car- 
ried away  from  us  ;  and  of  whom  we  ought  to  hear 
more. 

My  dear  Rebecca,  daughter  of  Isaac  of  York,  has 
always,  in  my  mind,  been  one  of  these ;  nor  can  I  ever 
believe  that  such  a  woman,  so  admirable,  so  tender, 
so  heroic,  so  beautiful,  could  disappear  altogether  be- 
fore such  another  woman  as  Eowena,  that  vapid, 
flaxen-headed  creature,  who  is,  in  my  humble  opinion, 
unworthy  of  Ivanhoe,  and  unworthy  of  her  place  as 
heroine:  Had  both  of  them  got  their  rights,  it  ever 
seemed  to  me  that  Rebecca  would  have  had  the  hus- 
band, and  Rowena  would  have  gone  off  to  a  convent  and 
shut  herself  up,  where  I,  for  one,  would  never  have 
t.-iken  the  trouble  of  inquiring  for  her. 

But  after  all  she  married  Ivanhoe.  What  is  to 
be  done  ?  There  is  no  help  for  it.  There  it  is  in 
black  and  white  at  the  end  of  the  third  volume 
of  Sir  Walter  Scott's  chronicle,  that  the  couple  were 
joined  together  in  matrimony.  And  must  the  Disiu- 


REBECCA    AND    KOWENA.  201 

herited  Knight,  whose  blood  has  been  fired  by  the  suns 
of  Palestine,  and  whose  heart  has  been  warmed  in 
the  company  of  the  tender  and  beautiful  Rebecca,  sit 
down  contented  for  life  by  the  side  of  such  a  frigid 
piece  of  propriety  as  that  icy,  faultless,  prim,  niminy- 
piminy  Rowena  ?  Forbid  it  fate,  forbid  it  poetical 
justice  !  There  is  a  simple  plan  for  setting  matters 
right,  and  giving  all  parties  their  due,  which  is  here 
submitted  to  the  novel-reader.  Ivanaoe's  history 
must  have  had  a  continuation ;  and  it  is  this,  which 
ensues.  I  may  be  wrong  in  some  particulars  of  the 
narrative, — as  what  writer  will  not  be  ? — but  of  the 
main  incidents  of  the  history,  I  have  in  my  own  mind 
no  sort  of  doubt,  and  confidently  submit  them  to  that 
generous  public  which  likes  to  see  virtue  righted, 
true  love  rewarded,  and  the  brilliant  Fairy  descend 
out  of  the  blazing  chariot  at  the  end  of  the  panto- 
mime, and  make  Harlequin  and  Columbine  happy. 
What,  if  reality  be  not  so,  gentlemen  and  ladies; 
and  if,  after  dancing  a  variety  of  jigs  and  antics,  and 
jumping  in  and  out  of  endless  trap-doors  and  windows 
through  life's  shifting  scenes,  no  fairy  comes  down  to 
make  us  comfortable  at  the  close  of  the  performance  ? 
Ah  !  let  us  give  our  honest  novel-folks  the  benefit  of 
their  position,  and  not  be  envious  of  their  good  luck. 
No  person  who  has  read  the  preceding  volumes  of 
this  history,  as  the  famous  chronicler  of  Abbotsford 
has  recorded  them,  can  doubt  for  a  moment  what 
9* 


202  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

was  the  result  of  the  marriage  between  Sir  Wilfrid 
of  Ivanhoe  and  the  Lady  Rowena.  Those  who  have 
marked  her  conduct  during  her  maidenhood,  her 
distinguished  politeness,  her  spotless  modesty  of  de- 
meanour, her  unalterable  coolness  under  all  circum- 
stances, and  her  lofty  and  gentlewoman-like  bearing, 
must  be  sure  that  her  married  conduct  would  equal 
her  spinster  behaviour,  and  that  Rowena  the  wife 
would  be  a  pattern  of  correctness  for  all  the  matrons 
of  England. 

Such  was  the  fact.  For  miles  around  Rotherwood 
her  character  for  piety  was  known.  Her  castle  was 
a  rendezvous  for  all  the  clergy  and  monks  of  the 
district,  whom  she  fed  with  the  richest  viands,  while 
she  pinched  herself  upon  pulse  and  water.  There 
was  not  an  invalid  in  the  three  Ridings.  Saxon  or  Nor- 
man, but  the  palfrey  of  the  Lady  Rowena  might  be 
seen  journeying  to  his  door,  in  company  with  Father 
Glauber  her  almoner,  and  Brother  Thomas  of  Epsom, 
her  leech.  She  lighted  up  all  the  churches  in  York- 
shire with  wax-candles,  the  offerings  of  her  piety. 
The  bells  of  her  chapel  began  to  ring  at  two  o'clock 
in  the  morning ;  and  all  the  domestics  of  Rotherwood 
were  called  upon  to  attend  at  matins,  at  complins,  at 
nones,  at  vespers,  and  at  sermon.  I  need  not  say 
that  fasting  was  observed  with  all  the  rigours  of  the 
Church  ;  and  that  those  of  the  servants  of  the  Lady 
Rowena  were  looked  upon  with  most  favour  whose 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  203 

hair  shirts  were  the  roughest,  and  who  flagellated  them- 
selves with  the  most  becoming  perseverance. 

Whether  it  was  that  this  discipline  cleared  poor 
Wamba's  wits  or  cooled  his  humour,  it  is  certain  that 
he  became  the  most  melancholy  fool  in  England,  and 
if  ever  he  ventured  upon  a  pun  to  the  shuddering, 
poor  servitors,  who  were  mumbling  their  dry  crusts 
below  the  salt,  it  was  such  a  faint  and  stale  joke, 
that  nobody  dared  laugh  at  the  inuendoes  of  the 
unfortunate  wag,  and  a  sickly  smile  was  the  best  ap- 
plause he  could  muster.  Once,  indeed,  when  Guffo, 
the  goose-boy  (a  halfwitted,  poor  wretch)  laughed 
outright  at  a  lamentably  stale  pun  which  Wamba 
palmed  upon  him  at  supper  time,  (it  was  dark,  and 
the  torches  being  brought  in,  Wamba  said,  "  Guffo, 
they  can't  see  their  way  in  the  argument,  and  are 
going  to  throw  a  little  light  upon  tJte  subject")  the 
Lady  Rowena,  being  disturbed  in  theological  contro- 
versy with  Father  Willibald  (afterwards  canonised 
as  St.  Willibald,  of  Bareacres,  hermit  and  confessor) 
called  out  to  know  what  was  the  cause  of  the  unseem- 
ly interruption,  and  Guffo  and  Wamba  being  pointed 
out  as  the  culprits,  ordered  them  straightway  into 
the  court-yard,  and  three  dozen  to  be  administered 
to  each  of  them. 

"  I  got  you  out  of  Front-de-Boeuf  s  castle,"  said 
poor  Wamba,  piteously,  appealing  to  Sir  Wilfrid  of 


204  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

Ivanhoe,  "  and  canst  thou  not  save  me  from  the 
lash?" 

"  Yes,  from  Front-de-Bceuf's  castle,  where  you 
were  locked  up  with  the  Jewess  in  the  tower ! "  said 
Rowena,  haughtily  replying  to  the  timid  appeal  of 
her  husband ;  "  Gurth,  give  him  four  dozen  !  " 

And  this  was  all  poor  Wamba  got  by  applying  for 
the  mediation  of  his  master. 

In  fact,  Rowena  knew  her  own  dignity  so  well  as 
a  princess  of  the  royal  blood  of  England,  that  Sir 
Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe,  her  consort,  could  scarcely  call 
his  life  his  own,  and  was  made,  in  all  things,  to  feel 
the  inferiority  of  his  station.  And  which  of  us  is 
there,  acquainted  with  the  sex,  that  has  not  remarked 
this  propensity  in  lovely  woman,  and  how  often  the 
wisest  in  the  council  are  made  to  be  as  fools  at  her 
board,  and  the  boldest  in  the  battle-field  are  craven 
when  facing  her  distaff? 

"  Where  you  were  locked  up  ivith  the  Jewess  in 
the  tower"  was  a  remark,  too,  of  which  Wilfrid  keen- 
ly felt,  and,  perhaps,  the  reader  will  understand,  the 
significancy.  When  the  daughter  of  Isaac  of  York 
brought  her  diamonds  and  rubies — the  poor,  gentle 
victim  ! — and,  meekly  laj'ing  them  at  the  feet  of  the 
conquering  Rowena,  departed  into  foreign  lands  to 
tend  the  sick  of  her  people,  and  to  brood  over  the 
bootless  passion  which  consumed  her  own  pure  heart, 
one  would  have  thought  that  the  heart  of  the  royal 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  205 

lady  would  have  melted  before  such  beauty  and  hu- 
mility, and  that  she  would  have  been  generous  in  the 
moment  of  her  victory. 

But  did  you  ever  know  a  right-minded  woman 
pardon  another  for  being  handsome  and  more  love- 
worthy than  herself?  The  Lady  Kowena  did  cer- 
tainly say,  with  mighty  magnanimity,  to  the  Jewish 
maiden,  "  Come  and  live  with  me  as  a  sister,"  as  the 
former  part  of  this  history  shows ;  but  Rebecca  knew 
in  her  heart  that  her  ladyship's  proposition  was  what 
is  called  bosh  (in  that  noble  Eastern  language  with 
which  Wilfred  the  Crusader  was  familiar),  or  fudge, 
in  plain  Saxon ;  and  retired,  with  a  broken,  gentle 
spirit,  neither  able  to  bear  the  sight  of  her  rival's 
happiness,  nor  willing  to  disturb  it  by  the  contrast 
of  her  own  wretchedness.  Rowena,  like  the  most 
high-bred  and  virtuous  of  women,  never  forgave 
Isaac's  daughter  her  beauty,  nor  her  flirtation  with 
Wilfred  (as  the  Saxon  lady  chose  to  term  it),  nor, 
above  all,  her  admirable  diamonds  and  jewels, 
although  Rowena  was  actually  in  possession  of 
them. 

In  a  word,  she  was  always  flinging  Rebecca  into 
Ivanhoe's  teeth.  There  was  not  a  day  in  his  life 
but  that  unhappy  warrior  was  made  to  remember 
that  a  Hebrew  damsel  had  been  in  love  with  him, 
and  that  a  Christian  lady  of  fashion  could  never  for- 
give the  insult.  For  instance,  if  Gurth,  the  swine- 


206  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 


herd,  who  was  now  promoted  to  be  a  gamekeeper 
and  verderer,  brought  the  account  of  a  famous  wild- 
boar  in  the  wood,  and  proposed  a  hunt,  Bowena 
would  say,  "  Do,  Sir  Wilfred,  persecute  those  poor 
pigs — you  know  your  friends,  the  Jews,  can't  abide 
them  !  "  Or  when,  as  it  oft  would  happen,  our  lion- 
hearted  monarch,  Richard,  in  order  to  get  a  loan  or 
a  benevolence  from  the  Jews,  would  roast  a  few  of 
the  Hebrew  capitalists,  or  extract  some  of  the  princi- 
pal rabbi's  teeth,  Rowena  would  exult  and  say, 
"  Serve  them  right,  the  misbelieving  wretches  !  Eng- 
land can  never  be  a  happy  country  until  every  one  of 
these  monsters  is  exterminated  !  "  Or  else,  adopting 
a  strain  of  still  more  savage  sarcasm,  would  exclaim, 
il  Ivanhoe,  my  dear,  more  persecution  for  the  Jews  ! 
Hadn't  you  better  interfere,  my  love?  His  majesty 
will  do  anything  for  you ;  and,  you  know,  the  Jews 
were  always  such  favourites  of  yours"  or  words  to 
that  effect.  But,  nevertheless,  her  ladyship  never 
lost  an  opportunity  of  wearing  Rebecca's  jewels  at 
court,  whenever  the  queen  held  a  drawing-room :  or 
at  the  York  assizes  and  ball,  when  she  appeared 
there,  not  of  course  because  she  took  any  interest 
in  such  things,  but  because  she  considered  it  her 
duty  to  attend  as  one  of  the  chief  ladies  of  the 
county. 

Thus  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe,  having   attained 
the  height  of  his  wishes,  was.  like  many  a  man  when 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  207 

he  has  reached  that  dangerous  elevation,  disap- 
pointed. Ah,  dear  friends,  it  is  but  too  often  so  in 
life  !  Many  a  garden,  seen  from  a  distance,  looks 
fresh  and  green,  which,  when  beheld  closely,  is  dis- 
mal and  weedy;  the  shady  walks  melancholy  and 
grass  grown ;  the  bowers  you  would  fain  repose  in, 
cushioned  with  stinging  nettles.  I  have  ridden  in  a 
caique  upon  the  waters  of  the  Bosphorus,  and  looked 
upon  the  capital  of  the  Soldan  of  Turkey.  As  seen 
from  those  blue  waters,  with  palace  and  pinnacle, 
with  gilded  dome  and  towering  cypress,  it  seemeth  a 
very  Paradise  of  Mahound ;  but,  enter  the  city,  and 
it  is  but  a  beggarly  labyrinth  of  ricketty  huts  and 
dirty  alleys,  where  the  ways  are  steep  and  the  smells 
are  foul,  tenanted  by  mangy  dogs  and  ragged  beg- 
gars— a  dismal  illusion  !  Life  is  such,  ah,  well-a-day  ! 
It  is  only  hope  which  is  real,  and  reality  is  a  bitter- 
ness and  a  deceit. 

Perhaps  a  man  with  Ivanhoe's  high  principles 
would  never  bring  himself  to  acknowledge  this  fact ; 
but  others  did  for  him.  He  grew  thin,  and  pined 
away  as  much  as  if  he  had  been  in  a  fever  under  the 
scorching  sun  of  Ascalon.  He  had  no  appetite  for 
his  meals ;  he  slept  ill,  though  he  was  yawning  all 
day.  The  jangling  of  the  doctors  and  friars  whom 
Rowena  brought  together  did  not  in  the  least  enliven 
him,  and  he  would  sometimes  give  proofs  of  somno- 
lency during  their  disputes,  greatly  to  the  consterna- 


208  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

tion  of  his  lady.  He  hunted  a  good  deal,  and,  I  very 
much  fear,  as  Rowena  rightly  remarked,  that  he 
might  have  an  excuse  for  being  absent  from  home. 
He  began  to  like  wine,  too,  who  had  been  as  sober 
as  a  hermit ;  and  when  he  came  back  from  Athel- 
stane's  (whither  he  would  repair  not  unfrequently), 
the  unsteadiness  of  his  gait,  and  the  unnatural  bril- 
liancy of  his  eye,  were  remarked  by  his  lady,  who, 
you  may  be  sure,  was  sitting  up  for  him.  As  for 
Athelstane,  he  swore  by  St.  Wullstan  that  he  was 
glad  to  have  escaped  a  marriage  with  such  a  pattern 
of  propriety ;  and  honest  Cedric  the  Saxon  (who  had 
been  very  speedily  driven  out  of  his  daughter-in-law's 
castle),  vowed  by  St.  Waltheof  that  his  son  had 
bought  a  dear  bargain. 

So  Sir  Wilfred  of  Ivanhoe  became  almost  as 
tired  of  England  as  his  royal  master,  Richard,  was, 
(who  always  quitted  the  country  when  he  had 
squeezed  from  his  loyal  nobles,  commons,  clergy,  and 
Jews,  all  the  money  which  he  could  get) ;  and  when 
the  lion-hearted  Prince  began  to  make  war  against 
the  French  king,  in  Normandy  and  Guienne,  Sir 
Wilfrid  pined  like  a  true  servant  to  be  in  company 
of  the  good  champion,  alongside  of  whom  he  had 
shivered  so  many  lances,  and  dealt  such  woundy 
blows  of  sword  and  battle-axe  on  the  plains  of  Jaffa, 
or  the  breaches  of  Acre.  Travellers  were  welcome 
at  Rotherwood  that  brought  news  from  the  camp  of 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  209 

the  good  king :  and  I  warrant  me  that  the  knight 
listened  with  all  his  might  when  Father  Drono,  the 
chaplain,  read  in  the  St.  James's  Chronykyll  (which 
was  the  paper  of  news  he  of  Ivanhoe  took  in),  of 
"  another  glorious  triumph." — "  Defeat  of  the  French 
near  Blois." — "  Splendid  victory  at  Epte,  and  narrow 
escape  of  the  French  king,"  the  which  deeds  of  arms 
the  learned  scribes  had  to  narrate. 

However  such  tales  might  excite  him  during  the 
reading,  they  left  the  knight  of  Ivanhoe  only  the 
more  melancholy  after  listening :  and  the  more 
moody  as  he  sat  in  his  great  hall  silently  draining 
his  Gascony  wine.  Silently  sat  he  and  looked  at  his 
coats  of  mail,  hanging  vacant  on  the  wall,  his  banner 
covered  with  spider-webs,  and  his  sword  and  axe 
rusting  there.  "  Ah,  dear  axe,"  sighed  he  (into  his 
drinking-horn),  "  ah,  gentle  steel !  that  was  a  merry 
time  when  I  sent  thee  crashing  into  the  pate  of  the 
Emir  Abdul  Melik,  as  he  rode  on  the  right  of  Sala- 
din.  Ah,  my  sword,  my  dainty  headsman,  my  sweet 
split-rib,  my  razor  of  infidel  beards ;  is  the  rust  to 
eat  thine  edge  off,  and  am  I  never  more  to  wield 
thee  in  battle  ?  What  is  the  use  of  a  shield  on  a 
wall,  or  a  lance  that  has  a  cobweb  for  a  pen- 
non? 0,  Richard,  my  good  king,  would  I  could 
hear  once  more  thy  voice  in  the  front  of  the  onset ! 
Bones  of  Brian  the  Templar,  would  ye  could  rise 


210  REBECCA    AM)    ROWENA. 

from  your  grave  at  Templestowe,  and  that  we  might 
break  another  spear  for  honour  and — and  "  *  *  * 

And  Rebecca,  he  would  have  said — but  the  knight 
paused  here  in  rather  a  guilty  panic ;  and  her  Royal 
Highness  the  Princess  Rowena  (as  she  chose  to  style 
herself  at  home)  looked  so  hard  at  him  out  of  her 
China  blue  eyes,  that  Sir  Wilfrid  felt  as  if  she  was 
reading  bis  thoughts,  and  was  fain  to  drop  his  own 
eyes  into  his  flagon. 

In  a  word,  his  life  was  intolerable.  The  dinner 
hour  of  the  twelfth  century,  it  is  known,  was  very 
early  :  in  fact,  people  dined  at  ten  o'clock  in  the 
morning :  and  after  dinner,  Rowena  sat  mum  under 
her  canopy,  embroidered  with  the  arms  of  Edward 
the  Confessor,  working  with  her  maidens  at  the  most 
hideous  pieces  of  tapestry,  representing  the  tortures 
and  martyrdoms  of  her  favourite  saints,  and  not  al- 
lowing a  soul  to  speak  above  his  breath,  except  when 
she  chose  to  cry  out  in  her  own  shrill  voice  when  a 
handmaid  made  a  wrong  stitch,  or  let  fall  a  ball  of 
worsted.  It  was  a  dreary  life — Wamba,  we  have 
said,  never  ventured  to  crack  a  joke,  save  in  a  whis- 
per, when  he  was  ten  miles  from  home ;  and  then 
Sir  Wilfrid  Ivanhoe  was  too  weary  and  blue-devilled 
to  laugh  :  but  hunted  in  silence,  moodily  bringing 
down  deer  and  wild-boar  with  shaft  and  quarrel. 

Then  he  besought  Robin  of  Huntingdon,  the 
jolly  outlaw,  nathless.  to  join  him.  and  go  to  the 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  211 

help  of  their  fair  sire  King  Richard,  with  a  score  or 
two  of  lances.  But  the  Earl  of  Huntingdon  was  a 
very  different  character  from  Robin  Hood  the  fores- 
ter. There  was  no  more  conscientious  magistrate  in 
all  the  county  than  his  lordship :  he  was  never  known 
to  miss  church  or  quarter  sessions ;  he  was  the  strict- 
est game-proprietor  in  all  the  Riding,  and  sent  scores 
of  poachers  to  Botany  Bay.  "  A  man  who  has  a 
stake  in  the  country,  my  good  Sir  Wilfrid,"  Lord 
Huntingdon  said,  with  rather  a  patronising  air  (his 
lordship  had  grown  immensely  fat  since  the  king  had 
taken  him  into  grace,  and  required  a  horse  as  strong 
as  an  elephant  to  mount  him).  "  a  man  with  a  stake 
in  the  country  ought  to  stay  in  the  country.  Pro- 
perty has  its  duties  as  well  as  its  privileges,  and  a 
person  of  my  rank  is  bound  to  live  on  the  land  from 
which  he  gets  his  living." 

"  Amen  ! "  sang  out  the  Reverend — Tuck,  his 
lordship's  domestic  chaplain,  who  had  also  grown  as 
sleek  as  the  Abbot  of  Jorvaulx,  who  was  as  prim  as 
a  lady  in  his  dress,  wore  bergamot  in  his  handker- 
chief, and  had  his  poll  shaved,  and  his  beard  curled 
every  day.  And  so  sanctified  was  his  Reverence 
grown,  that  he  thought  it  was  a  shame  to  kill  the 
pretty  deer  (though  he  ate  of  them  still  hugely,  both 
in  pasties  and  with  French  beans  and  currant  jelly), 
and  being  shown  a  quarter-staff  upon  a  certain  occa- 


212  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

sion,  handled  it  curiously,  and  asked  "  what  that  ugly 
great  stick  was  ?  " 

Lady  Huntingdon,  late  Maid  Marian,  had  still 
some  of  her  old  fun  and  spirits,  and  poor  Ivanhoe 
begged  and  prayed  that  she  would  come  and  stay  at 
Rotherwood  occasionally,  and  egayer  the  general  u pi- 
ness  of  that  castle.  But  her  ladyship  said  that  llow- 
ena  gave  herself  such  airs,  and  hored  her  so  intolera- 
bly with  stories  of  king  Edward  the  Confessor,  that 
she  preferred  any  place  rather  than  Rotherwood. 
which  was  as  dull  as  if  it  had  been  at  the  top  of 
Mount  Athos. 

The  only  person  who  visited  it  was  Athelstane. 
"  His  Royal  Highness  the  Prince,"  Rowena  of  course 
called  him,  whom  the  lady  received  with  royal  honours. 
She  had  the  guns  fired,  and  the  footmen  turned  out 
with  presented  arms  when  he  arrived  ;  helped  him  to 
all  the  favourite  cuts  of  the  mutton  or  the  turkey, 
and  forced  her  poor  husband  to  light  him  to  the  state 
bed-room,  walking  backwards,  holding  a  pair  of  wax- 
candles.  At  this  hour  of  bed  time  the  Thane  used 
to  be  in  such  a  condition,  that  he  saw  two  pair  of 
candles  and  a  couple  of  Ivanhoes  reeling  before  him — 
let  us  hope  it  was  not  Ivanhoe  that  was  reeling,  but 
only  his  kinsman's  brains  muddled  with  the  quantities 
of  drink  which  it  was  his  daily  custom  to  consume. 
Rowena  said  it  was  the  crack  which  the  wicked  Bois 
Guilbert,  "the  Jewess's  other  lover.  Wilfrid,  rav 


REBECCA    AND    P.OWENA.  213 

dear,"  gave  him  on  his  royal  skull,,  which  caused  the 
Prince  to  be  disturbed  so  easily  ;  but  added,  that 
drinking  became  a  person  of  royal  blood,  and  was  but 
one  of  the  duties  of  his  station. 

Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe  saw  it  would  be  of  no 
avail  to  ask  this  man  to  bear  him  company  on  his 
projected  tour  abroad  ;  but  still  he  himself  was  every 
day  more  and  more  bent  upon  going,  and  he  long  cast 
about  for  some  means  of  breaking  to  his  Rowena  his 
firm  resolution  to  join  the  King.  He  thought  she 
would  certainly  fall  ill  if  he  communicated  the  news 
too  abruptly  to  her ;  he  would  pretend  a  journey  to 
York  to  attend  a  grand  jury ;  then  a  call  to  London 
on  law  business  or  to  buy  stock;  then  he  would  slip 
over  to  Calais  by  the  packet  by  degrees,  as  it  were ; 
and  so  be  with  the  King  before  his  wife  knew  that  he 
was  out  of  sight  of  Westminster  Hall. 

"  Suppose  your  honour  says  you  are  going,  as  your 
honour  would  say  Bo  to  a  goose,  plump,  short,  and  to 
the  point,"  said  Wamba,  the  jester,  who  was  Sir 
Wilfrid's  chief  counsellor  and  attendant,  "depend 
on't  her  highness  would  bear  the  news  like  a  Christian 
woman." 

"  Tush,  malapert !  I  will  give  thee  the  strap,"  said 
Sir  Wilfrid,  in  a  fine  tone  of  high  tragedy  indigna- 
tion ;  "  thou  knowest  not  the  delicacy  of  the  nerves 
of  high-born  ladies.  An  she  faint  not.  write  me 
down  Hollander." 


214  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

"  I  will  wager  my  bauble  against  an  Irish  billet 
of  exchange  that  she  will  let  your  honour  go  off  readi- 
ly :  that  is,  if  you  press  not  the  matter  too  strongly," 
Wamba  answered  knowingly ;  and  this  Ivanhoe  found 
to  his  discomfiture:  for  one  morning  at  breakfast, 
adopting  a  degage  air,  as  he  sipped  his  tea,  he  said. 
•;  My  love,  I  was  thinking  of  going  over  to  pay  his 
Majesty  a  visit  in  Normandy :"  upon  which  laying 
down  her  muffin,  (which,  since  the  Royal  Alfred 
baked  those  cakes,  had  been  the  chosen  breakfast  cake 
of  noble  Anglo  Saxons,  and  which  a  kneeling  page 
tendered  to  her  on  a  salver,  chased  by  the  Florentine 
Benvenuto  Cellini,) — u  When  do  you  think  of  going, 
Wilfrid,  my  dear  ?  " — the  lady  said,  and  the  moment 
the  tea  things  were  removed,  and  the  tables  and  their 
trestles  put  away,  she  set  about  mending  his  linen, 
and  getting  ready  his  carpet-bag. 

So  Sir  Wilfrid  was  as  disgusted  at  her  readiness 
to  part  with  him  as  he  had  been  weary  of  staying  at 
home,  which  caused  Wamba,  the  fool,  to  say,  "  Mar- 
ry, Gossip,  thou  art  like  the  man  on  ship-board,  who, 
when  the  boatswain  flogged  him,  did  cry  out,  '  O,' 
wherever  the  rope's  end  fell  on  him  :  which  caused 
Master  Boatswain  to  say, '  Plague  on  thee,  fellow,  and 
a  pize  on  thee,  knave,  wherever  I  hit  thee  there  is  no 
pleasing  thee.1 " 

"  And  truly  there  are  some  backs  which  Fortune 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  215 

is  always  belabouring,"  thought  Sir  Wilfrid,  with  a 
groan,  "  and  mine  is  one  that  is  ever  sore." 

So,  with  a  moderate  retinue,  whereof  the  knave 
Wamba  made  one,  and  a  large  woollen  comforter 
round  his  neck,  which  his  wife's  own  white  fingers 
had  woven,  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe  left  home  to  join 
the  King,  his  master.  Rowena  standing  on  the 
steps,  poured  out  a  series  of  prayers  and  blessings, 
most  edifying  to  hear,  as  her  lord  mounted  his 
charger,  which  his  squires  led  to  the  door.  "  It  was 
the  duty  of  the  British  female  of  rank,"  she  said,  "to 
suffer  all,  all  in  the  cause  of  her  Sovereign.  She 
would  not  fear  loneliness  during  the  campaign :  she 
would  bear  up  against  widowhood,  desertion,  and  an 
unprotected  situation." 

"  My  cousin  Athelstane  will  protect  thee,"  said 
Ivanhoe,  with  profound  emotion,  as  the  tears  trickled 
down  his  basnet ;  and  bestowing  a  chaste  salute  upon 
the  steel-clad  warrior,  Rowena  modestly  said,  "  She 
hoped  his  highness  would  be  so  kind." 

Then  Ivanhoe's  trumpet  blew :  then  Rowena  wav- 
ed her  pocket  handkerchief:  then  the  household  gave 
a  shout :  then  the  pursuivant  of  the  good  knight,  Sir 
Wilfrid  the  Crusader,  flung  out  his  banner  (which  was 
argent  a  gules  cramoisy  with  three  Moors  impaled 
sable) :  then  Wamba  gave  a  lash  on  his  mule's 
haunch,  and  Ivanhoe,  heaving  a  great  sigh,  turned 
the  tail  of  his  war-horse  upon  the  castle  of  his  fathers. 


216  REBECCA    AND    KUWE.VA. 

As  they  rode  along  the  forest,  they  met  Athel- 
stane.  the  Thane,  powdering  along  the  road  in  the  di 
rection  of  Rotherwoood  on  his  great  dray-horse  of  a 
charger.  "  Good-bye,  good  luck  to  you,  old  brick," 
cried  the  Prince,  using  the  vernacular  Saxon  :  "  pitch 
into  those  Frenchmen  ;  give  it  'em  over  the  face  and 
eyes ;  and  I'll  stop  at  home,  and  take  care  of  Mrs. 
I." 

li  Thank  you,  kinsman,"  said  Ivanhoe,  looking, 
however,  not  particularly  well  pleased  ;  and  the  chiefs 
shaking  hands,  the  train  of  each  took  its  different 
way — Athelstane's  to  Rotherwood.  Ivanhoe's  towards 
his  place  of  embarkation. 

The  poor  knight  had  his  wish,  and  yet  his  face 
was  a  yard  long,  and  as  yellow  as  a  lawyer's  parch- 
ment ;  and  having  longed  to  quit  home  any  time  these 
three  years  past,  he  found  himself  envying  Athelstane, 
because,  forsooth,  he  was  going  to  Rotherwood  :  which 
symptoms  of  discontent  being  observed  by  the  witless 
Wamba,  caused  that  absurd  madman  to  bring  his  re- 
beck over  his  shoulder  from  his  back,  and  to  sing— 

ATRA    CUBA. 

Before  I  lost  my  five  poor  wita, 

I  mind  me  of  a  Romish  clerk, 

Who  sang  how  Care,  the  phantom  dark, 

Beeide  the  belted  horseman  sits. 

Methoughl  I  saw  the  griesly  eprite 

Tump  up  but  now  behind  my  Knight. 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  217 

"  Perhaps  thou  didst,  knave,"  said  Ivanhoe,  look- 
ing over  his  shoulder ;  and  the  knave  went  on  with 
his  jingle. 

And  though  he  gallop  as  he  may, 
I  mark  that  cursed  monster  black 
Still  sits  behind  his  honour's  back, 
Tight  squeezing  of  his  heart  alway. 
Like  two  black  Templars  sit  they  there, 
Beside  one  crupper,  Knight  and  Care. 

No  knight  am  I  with  pennoned  spear, 
To  prance  upon  a  bold  destrere : 
I  will  not  have  black  Care  prevail 
Upon  my  long-eared  charger's  tail, 
For  lo,  I  am  a  witless  fool, 
And  laugh  at  Grief,  and  ride  a  mule. 

And  his  bells  rattled  as  he  kicked  his  mule's  sides. 

"  Silence,  fool ! "  said  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe,  in 
a  voice  both  majestic  and  wrathful.  ''  If  thou  know- 
est  not  care  and  grief,  it  is  because  thou  knowest  not 
love,  whereof  they  are  the  companions.  Who  can 
love  without  an  anxious  heart  ?  How  shall  there  be 
joy  at  meeting,  without  tears  at  parting?"  (I  did 
not  see  that  his  honour  or  my  lady  shed  many  anon, 
thought  Wamba  the  fool,  but  he  was  only  a  zany,  and 
his  mind  was  not  right.)  "  I  would  not  exchange  m£ 
very  sorrows  for  thine  indifference,"  the  knight  con- 
tinued. "Where  there  is  a  sun  there  must  be  a 
lu 


218  REBECCA    AND    EOWENA. 

shadow.  If  the  shadow  offend  me,  shall  I  put  out 
my  eyes  and  live  in  the  dark  ?  No  !  I  am  content 
with  my  fate,  even  such  as  it  is.  The  Care  of  which 
thou  speakest,  hard  though  it  may  vex  him,  never  yet 
rode  down  an  honest  man.  I  can  bear  him  on  my 
shoulders,  and  make  my  way  through  the  world's 
press  in  spite  of  him  ;  for  my  arm  is  strong,  and  my 
sword  is  keen,  and  my  shield  has  no  stain  on  it ;  and 
my  heart,  though  it  is  sad,  knows  no  guile."  And 
here,  taking  a  locket  out  of  his  waistcoat  (which  was 
made  of  chain-mail),  the  knight  kissed  the  token,  put 
it  back  under  the  waistcoat  again,  heaved  a  profound 
sigh,  and  stuck  spurs  into  his  horse. 

As  for  Wamba,  he  was  munching  a  black  pudding 
whilst  Sir  "Wilfrid  was  making  the  above  speech 
(which  implied  some  secret  grief  on  the  knight's  part, 
that  must  have  been  perfectly  unintelligible  to  the 
fool),  and  so  did  not  listen  to  a  single  word  of  Ivan- 
hoe's  pompous  remarks.  They  travelled  on  by  slow 
stages  through  the  whole  kingdom,  until  they  came 
to  Dover,  whence  they  took  shipping  for  Calais.  And 
in  this  little  voyage,  being  exceedingly  sea-sick,  and 
besides  elated  at  the  thought  of  meeting  his  Sovereign, 
the  good  knight  cast  away  that  profound  melancholy 
which  had  accompanied  him  during  the  whole  of  his 
land  journey. 


REBECCA    AND   ROWENA  219 

CHAPTER  II. 

THE  LAST  DAYS  OF  THE  LION. 

FROM  Calais  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe  took  the  dili- 
gence across  country  to  Limoges,  sending  on  Gurth, 
his  squire,  with  the  horses  and  the  rest  of  his  attend- 
ants, with  the  exception  of  Wamba,  who  travelled 
not  only  as  the  knight's  fool  but  as  his  valet,  and  who, 
perched  on  the  roof  of  the  carriage,  amused  himself 
by  blowing  tunes  upon  the  conducteur' 's  French  horn. 
The  good  King  Richard  was,  as  Ivanhoe  learned,  in 
the  Limousin,  encamped  before  a  little  place  called 
Chalus,  the  lord  whereof,  though  a  vassal  of  the  King's, 
was  holding  the  castle  against  his  Sovereign  with  a 
resolution  and  valour,  which  caused  a  great  fury  and 
annoyance  on  the  part  of  the  Monarch  with  the  Lion 
Heart.  For  brave  and  magnanimous  as  he  was,  the 
Lion-hearted  one  did  not  love  to  be  baulked  any  more 
than  another ;  and,  like  the  royal  animal  whom  he 
was  said  to  resemble,  he  commonly  tore  his  adversary 
to  pieces,  and  then,  perchance,  had  leisure  to  think 
how  brave  the  latter  had  been.  The  Count  of  Chalus 
had  found,  it  was  said,  a  pot  of  money ;  the  royal 
Richard  wanted  it.  As  the  Count  denied  that  he 
had  it,  why  did  he  not  open  the  gates  of  his  castle  at 


220  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

once  ?  It  was  a  clear  proof  that  he  was  guilty  ;  and 
the  King  was  determined  to  punish  this  rebel,  and 
have  his  money  and  his  life  too. 

He  had  naturally  brought  no  breaching  guns  with 
him,  because  those  instruments  were  not  yet  invented  : 
and  though  he  had  assaulted  the  place  a  score  of  times 
with  the  utmost  fury,  his  Majesty  had  been  beaten 
back  on  every  occasion,  until  he  was  so  savage  that  it 
was  dangerous  to  approach  the  British  Lion.  The 
Lion's  wife,  the  lovely  Berengaria,  scarcely  ventured 
to  come  near  him.  He  flung  the  joint  stools  in  his 
tent  at  the  heads  of  the  officers  of  state,  and  kicked 
his  aides-de-camp  round  his  pavilion ;  and.  in  fact,  a 
maid  of  honour,  who  brought  a  sack-posset  into  his 
Majesty  from  the  Queen,  after  he  came  in  from  the 
assault,  came  spinning  like  a  foot-ball  out  of  the  royal 
tent  just  as  Ivanhoe  entered  it. 

t:  Send  me  my  Austrian  drum-major  to  flog  that 
woman,"  roared  out  the  infuriate  King.  ::  By  the 
bones  of  St.  Barnabas  she  has  burned  the  sack  !  By 
St.  Wittikind,  I  will  have  her  flayed  alive.  Ha  !  St. 
George,  Ha !  St.  Richard,  whom  have  we  here  ?  "  And 
he  lifted  up  his  demi-culverin,  or  curtal  axe,  a  weapon 
weighing  about  thirteen  hundred  weight,  and  was 
about  to  fling  it  at  the  intruder's  head,  when  the  lat- 
ter, kneeling  gracefully  on  one  knee,  said  calmly.  "It 
is  I,  my  good  liege,  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe." 

"What,    Wilfrid    of   Templestowe.    Wilfrid    the 


'  + 

REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  221 

married  man,  Wilfrid  the  hen-pecked,"  cried  the  King 
with  a  sudden  burst  of  good  humour,  flinging  away 
the  culverin  from  him,  as  though  it  had  been  a  reed 
(it  lighted  three  hundred  yards  off,  on  the  foot  of 
Hugo  de  Bunyon,  who  was  smoking  a  cigar  at  the 
door  of  his  tent,  and  caused  that  redoubted  warrior 
to  limp  for  some  days  after).  "  What,  Wilfrid,  my 
gossip  ?  Art  come  to  see  the  Lion's  den  ?  There 
are  bones  in  it,  man,  bones  and  carcases,  and  the  Lion 
is  angry,"  said  the  King,  with  a  terrific  glare  of  his 
eyes,  "  but  tush  !  we  will  talk  of  that  anon.  Ho  ! 
bring  two  gallons  of  hypocras  for  the  King,  and  the 
good  knight,  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe.  Thou  art  come  in 
time,  Wilfrid,  for  by  St.  Richard,  and  St.  George,  we 
will  give  a  grand  assault  to-morrow.  There  will  be 
bones  broken,  ha  !  " 

"  I  care  not,  my  liege,"  said  Ivanhoe,  pledging  the 
Sovereign  respectfully,  and  tossing  off  the  whole  con- 
tents of  the  bowl  of  hypocras  to  his  Highness's  good 
health, — and  he  at  once  appeared  to  be  taken  into 
high  favour,  not  a  little  to  the  envy  of  many  of  the 
persons  surrounding  the  King. 

As  his  Majesty  said,  there  was  fighting  and  feast- 
ing in  plenty  before  Chalus.  Day  after  day,  the  be- 
siegers made  assaults  upon  the  castle,  but  it  was  held 
so  stoutly  by  the  Count  of  Chalus,  and  his  gallant 
garrison,  that  each  afternoon  beheld  the  attacking 
parties  returning  disconsolately  to  their  tents,  leaving 


222  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

behind  them  many  of  their  own  slain,  and  bringing 
back  with  them  store  of  broken  heads,  and  maimed 
limbs,  received  in  the  unsuccessful  onset.  The  valour 
displayed  by  Ivanhoe,  in  all  these  contests,  was  pro- 
digious ;  and  the  way  in  which  he  escaped  death  from 
the  discharges  of  mangonels,  catapults,  battering- 
rams,  twenty-four  pounders,  boiling  oil,  and  other 
artillery,  with  which  the  besieged  received  their  ene- 
mies, was  remarkable.  After  a  day's  fighting.  Grurth 
and  Wamba  used  to  pick  the  arrows  out  of  their 
intrepid  master's  coat  of  mail,  as  if  they  had  been  so 
many  almonds  in  a  pudding.  'Twas  well  for  the 
good  knight,  that  under  his  first  coat  of  .armour  he 
wore  a  choice  suit  of  Toledan  steel,  perfectly  imper- 
vious to  arrow  shots,  and  given  to  him  by  a  certain 
Jew,  named  Isaac  of  York,  to  whom  he  had  done 
some  considerable  services  a  few  years  back. 

If  King  Richard  had  not  been  in  such  a  rage  at 
the  repeated  failures  of  his  attacks  upon  the  Castle, 
that  all  sense  of  justice  was  blinded  in  the  lion-hearted 
Monarch,  he  would  have  been  the  first  to  acknowledge 
the  valour  of  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe,  and  would  have 
given  him  a  Peerage,  and  the  Grand  Cross  of  the 
Bath,  at  least  a  dozen  times  in  the  course  of  the 
siege :  for  Ivanhoe  led  more  than  a  dozen  storming 
parties,  and  with  his  own  hand  killed  as  many  men 
(viz.  two  thousand  three  hundred  and  fifty-one)  with- 
in six,  as  were  slain  by  the  lion-hearted  Monarch 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  223 

himself.  But  his  Majesty  was  rather  disgusted  than 
pleased,  by  his  faithful  servant's  prowess  :  and  all  the 
courtiers  who  hated  Ivanhoe  for  his  superior  valour 
and  dexterity  (for  he  would  kill  you  off  a  couple  of 
hundred  of  them  of  Chalus,  whilst  the  strongest 
champions  of  the  King's  host  could  not  finish  more 
than  their  two  dozen  of  a  day),  poisoned  the  royal 
mind  against  Sir  Wilfrid,  and  made  the  King  look 
upon  his  feats  of  arms  with  an  evil  eye.  Roger  de 
Backbite  sneeringly  told  the  King,  that  Sir  Wilfrid 
had  offered  to  bet  an  equal  bet,  that  he  would  kill 
more  men  than  Richard  himself  in  the  next  assault ; 
Peter  de  Toadhole  said,  that  Ivanhoe  stated  every 
where,  that  his  Majesty  was  not  the  man  he  used  to 
be  :  that  pleasures  and  drink  had  enervated  him  ; 
that  he  could  neither  ride,  nor  strike  a  blow  with 
sword  or  axe,  as  he  had  been  enabled  to  do  in  the 
old  times  in  Palestine  ;  and  finally,  in  the  twenty- 
fifth  assault,  in  which  they  had  very  nearly  carried 
the  place,  and  in  which  onset  Ivanhoe  slew  seven, 
and  his  Majesty  six,  of  the  sons  of  the  Count  de 
Chalus,  its  defender,  Ivanhoe  almost  did  for  himself, 
by  planting  his  banner  before  the  King's,  upon  the 
wall ;  and  only  rescued  himself  from  utter  disgrace, 
by  saving  his  Majesty's  life  several  times  in  the 
course  of  this  most  desperate  onslaught. 

Then  the  luckless  knight's  very  virtues  (as,  no 
doubt,  my  respected  readers  know)  made  him  ene- 


224  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

mies  amongst  the  men — nor  was  Ivanhoe  liked  by 
the  women  frequenting  the  camp  of  the  gay  King 
Richard.  His  young  Queen,  and  a  brilliant  court  of 
ladies,  attended  the  pleasure-loving  Monarch.  His 
Majesty  would  transact  business  in  the  morning,  then 
fight  severely  from  after  breakfast  till  about  three 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon ;  from  which  time,  until  after 
midnight,  there  was  nothing  but  jigging  and  singing, 
feasting  and  revelry,  in  the  royal  tents.  Ivanhoe. 
who  was  asked  as  a  matter  of  ceremony,  and  forced 
to  attend  these  entertainments,  not  caring  about  the 
blandishments  of  any  of  the  ladies  present,  looked  on 
at  their  ogling  and  dancing  with  a  countenance  as 
glum  as  an  undertaker's,  and  was  a  perfect  wet 
blanket  in  the  midst  of  the  festivities.  His  favour- 
ite resort  and  conversation  were  with  a  remarkably 
austere  hermit,  who  lived  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Chalus,  and  with  whom  Ivanhoe  loved  to  talk  about 
Palestine,  and  the  Jews,  and  other  grave  matters  of 
import,  better  than  to  mingle  in  the  gayest  amuse- 
ments of  the  court  of  King  Richard.  Many  a  night, 
when  the  Queen  and  the  ladies  were  dancing  quad- 
rilles and  polkas  (in  which  his  Majesty,  who  was 
enormously  stout  as  well  as  tall,  insisted  upon  figur- 
ing, and  in  which  he  was  about  as  graceful  as  an 
elephant  dancing  a  hornpipe),  Ivanhoe  would  steal 
away  from  the  ball,  and  come  and  have  a  night's  chat 
under  the  moon  with  his  reverend  friend.  It  pained 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  225 

him  to  see  a  man  of  the  King's  age  and  size  dancing 
about  with  the  young  folks.  They  laughed  at  his 
Majesty  whilst  they  flattered  him :  the  pages  and 
maids  of  honour  mimicked  the  royal  mountebank 
almost  to  his  face  ;v  and,  if  Ivanhoe  ever  could  have 
laughed,  he  certainly  would  one  night,  when  the 
King,  in  light-blue  satin  inexpressibles,  with  his  hair 
in  powder,  chose  to  dance  the  Minuet  de  la  Cour  with 
the  little  Queen  Berengaria. 

Then,  after  dancing,  his  Majesty  must  needs  order 
a  guitar,  and  begin  to  sing.  He  was  said  to  com- 
pose his  own  songs,  words,  and  music — but  those  who 
have  read  Lord  Campobello's  lives  of  the  Lord  Chan- 
cellors, are  aware  that  there  was  a  person  by  the 
name  of  Blondel,  who,  in  fact,  did  all  the  musical 
part  of  the  King's  performances ;  and,  as  for  the 
words,  when  a  King  writes  verses,  we  may  be  sure 
there  will  be  plenty  of  people  to  admire  his  poetry. 
His  Majesty  would  sing  you  a  ballad,  of  which  he 
had  stolen  every  idea,  to  an  air  which  was  ringing  on 
all  the  barrel-organs  of  Christendom,  and,  turning 
round  to  his  courtiers,  would  say,  "  How  do  you  like 
that  ?  I  dashed  it  off  this  morning."  Or,  "  Blondel, 
what  do  you  think  of  this  movement  in  B  flat  ?  "  or 
what  not ;  and  the  courtiers  and  Blondel,  you  may 
be  sure,  would  applaud  with  all  their  might,  like 
hypocrites  as  they  were. 

One  evening,  it  was   the   evening  of  the   27th 

10* 


226  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

March,  1199,  indeed,  his  Majesty,  who  was  in  the 
musical  mood,  treated  the  court  with  a  quantity  of 
his  so-called  compositions,  until  the  people  were  fairly 
tired  of  clapping  with  their  hands,  and  laughing  in 
their  sleeves.  First  he  sang  an  original  air  and 
poem,  beginning 

Cherries  nice,  cherries  nice,  nice,  come  choose. 
Fresh  and  fair  ones,  who'll  refuse  ?  Ac. 

The  which  he  was  ready  to  take  his  affidavit  he  had 
composed  the  day  before  yesterday.  Then  he  sang 
an  equally  original  heroic  melody,  of  which  the 
chorus  was 

Rule  Britannia,  Britannia  rules  the  sea, 

For  Britons,  never,  never,  never,  slaves  shall  be,  Ac. 

The  courtiers  applauded  this  song  as  they  did  the 
other,  all  except  Ivanhoe,  who  sat  without  changing 
a  muscle  of  his  features,  until  the  King  questioned 
him,  when  the  knight  with  a  bow  said,  "  he  thought 
he  had  heard  something  very  like  the  air  and  the 
words  elsewhere."  His  Majesty  scowled  at  him  a 
savage  glance  from  under  his  red  bushy  eyebrows ; 
but  Ivanhoe  had  saved  the  royal  life  that  day,  and 
the  King,  therefore,  with  difficulty  controlled  his 
indignation. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  by  St.  Richard  and  St.  George 
but  ye  never  heard  this  song,  for  I  composed  it  this 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  227 

very  afternoon  as  I  to'ok  my  bath  after  the  mdlee. 
Did  I  not,  Blondel?" 

Blondel,  of  course,  was  ready  to  take  an  affidavit 
that  his  Majesty  had  done  as  he  said,  and  the  King, 
thrumming  on  his  guitar  with  his  great  red  fingers 
and  thumbs,  began  to  sing  out  of  tune,  and  as  fol- 
lows : — 

COMMANDERS  OF  THE  FAITHFUL. 

The  Pope  he  is  a  happy  man, 

His  Palace  is  the  Vatican : 

And  there  he  sits  and  drains  his  can, 

The  Pope  he  is  a  happy  man. 

I  often  say  when  I'm  at  home, 

Fd  like  to  be  the  Pope  of  Rome. 

And  then  there's  Sultan  Saladin, 
That  Turkish  Soldan  full  of  sin ; 
He  has  a  hundred  wives  at  least, 
By  which  his  pleasure  is  increased ; 
I've  often  wished,  I  hope  no  sin, 
That  I  were  Sultan  Saladin. 

But  no,  the  Pope  no  wife  may  choose, 
And  so  I  would  not  wear  his  shoes ; 
No  wine  may  drink  the  proud  Paynim, 
And  so  I'd  rather  not  be  him ; 
My  wife,  my  wine,  I  love  I  hope, 
And  would  be  neither  Turk  nor  Pope. 

Encore  !  Encore !  Bravo  !  Bis  !  Everybody  ap- 
plauded the  King's  song  with  all  his  might ;  every- 


228  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

body  except  Ivanhoe,  who  preserved  his  abominable 
gravity  ;  and  when  asked  aloud  by  Roger  de  Back- 
bite whether  he  had  heard  that  too?  said,  firmly, 
"  Yes,  Roger  de  Backbite,  and  so  hast  thou  if  thou 
darest  but  tell  the  truth." 

"  Now,  by  St.  Cicely,  may  I  never  touch  gittern 
again,"  bawled  the  King  in  a  fury,  "  if  every  note, 
word,  and  thought  be  not  mine  ;  may  I  die  in  to-mor- 
row's onslaught  if  the  song  be  not  my  song.  Sing 
thyself,  Wilfrid  of  the  Lanthorn  Jaws  ;  thou  couldst 
sing  a  good  song  in  old  times :"  and  with  all  his 
might,  and  with  a  forced  laugh,  the  King,  who  loved 
brutal  practical  jests,  flung  his  guitar  at  the  head  of 
Ivanhoe. 

Sir  Wilfrid  caught  it  gracefully  with  one  hand, 
and,  making  an  elegant  bow  to  the  Sovereign,  began 
to  chant  as  follows  : — 

KING  CANUTE. 

King  Canute  was  weary-hearted ;  he  had  reigned  for  years  a  score ; 
Battling,  struggling,  pushing,  fighting,  killing  much  and  robbing  more, 
And  he  thought  upon  his  actions,  walking  by  the  wild  sea  shore. 

Twixt  the  Chancellor  and  Bishop  walked  the  King  with  steps  sedate, 
Chamberlains  and  grooms  came  after,  silver  sticks  and  gold  sticks  great, 
Chaplains,  aides-de-camp,  and  pages, — all  the  officers  of  state. 

Sliding  after  like  his  shadow,  pausing  when  he  chose  to  pause; 

If  a  frown  his  face  contracted,  straight  the  courtiers  dropped  their  jaws  ; 

If  to  laugh  the  King  was  minded,  out  they  burst  in  loud  hee-haws. 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  229 

But  that  day  a  something  vexed  him,  that  was  clear  to  old  and  young, 
Thrice  his  Grace  had  yawned  at  table,  when  his  favourite  gleeinan  sung, 
Once  the  Queen  would  have  consoled  him,  but  he  bade  her  hold  her  tongue. 

"  Something  ails  my  gracious  Master,"  cried  the  Keeper  of  the  Seal, 
"Sure,  my  lord,  it  is  the  lampreys,  served  at  dinner,  or  the  veal ! " 
u  Psha ! "  exclaimed  the  angry  Monarch,  "  Keeper,  'tis  not  that  I  feel. 

"  Tis  the  heart  and  not  the  dinner,  fool,  that  doth  my  rest  impair ; 
Can  a  King  be  great  as  I  am,  prithee,  and  yet  know  no  care  ? 
O,  I'm  sick,  and  tired,  and  weary.'' — Some  one  cried,  "  The  King's  arm- 
chair ! " 

Then  towards  the  lackeys  turning,  quick  my  lord  the  Keeper  nodded, 
Straight  the  King's  great  chair  was  brought  him,  by  two  footmen  able- 
bodied, 
Languidly  he  sank  into  it ;  it  was  comfortably  wadded. 

"  Leading  on  my  fierce  companions,"  cried  he,  "  over  storm  and  brine, 
I  have  fought  and  I  have  conquered !    Where  was  glory  like  to  mine  I " 
Loudly  all  the  courtiers  echoed,  "  Where  is  glory  like  to  thine  ?  " 

"  What  avail  me  all  my  kingdoms  ?  Weary  am  I  now,  and  old, 
Those  fair  sons  I  have  begotten,  long  to  see  md  dead  and  cold ; 
Would  I  werej  and  quiet  buried,  underneath  the  silent  mould ! 


"  O,  remorse,  the  writhing  serpent !  at  my  bosom  tears  a: 
Horrid,  horrid  things  I  look  on,  though  I  put  out  all  the  lights 
Ghosts  of  ghastly  recollections  troop  about  my  bed  of  nights. 


,nd  bites ;    j 
lights ; 
;hts,  /' 


"Cities  burning,  convents  blazing,  red  with  sacrilegious  fires; 

Mothers  weeping,  virgins  screaming,  vainly  for  their  slaughtered  sires — " 

—  "Such  a  tender  conscience,"  cries  the  Bishop,  "  every  one  admires. 

"But  for  such  unpleasant  bygones,  cease,  my  gracious  Lord,  to  search, 
They're  forgotten  and  forgiven  by  our  holy  Mother  Church  ; 
Never,  never  does  she  leave  her  benefactors  in  the  lurch. 

"  Look !  the  land  is  crowned  with  Minsters,  which  your  Grace's  bounty 

raised ; 

Abbeys  filled  with  holy  men,  where  you  and  lleaven  are  daily  praised ; 
You,  my  lord,  to  think  of  dying  ?  on  my  conscience,  I'm  amazed !" 


230  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

"Nay,  I  feel,"  replied  King  Canute,  "  that  my  end  is  drawing  near: " 
"Don't  say  so,"  exclaimed  the  courtiers  (striving  each  to  squeeze  a  tear). 
"Sure  your  Grace  is  strong  and  lusty,  and  may  live  this  fifty  year. 

"  Live  these  fifty  years ! "  the  Bishop  roared,  with  actions  made  to  suit, 
"  Are  you  mad,  my  good  Lord  Keeper,  thus  tospeak  of  King  Canute  f 
Men  have  lived  a  thousand  years,  and  sure  his  Majesty  will  do  1 

•*  Adam,  Enoch,  Lamech,  Canan,  Mahaleel,  Methusela, 

Lived  nine  hundred  years  apiece,  and  mayn't  the  King  as  well  as  they  t " 

"Fervently,"  exclaimed  the  Keeper,  "fervently,  I  trust  he  may." 

••  lie  to  die?  "  resumed  the  Bishop.  "  He  a  mortal  like  to  us? 
Death  was  not  for  him  intended,  though  communie  omnibus  ; 
Keeper,  you  are  irreligious,  for  to  talk  and  cavil  thus. 

"With  his  wondrous  skill  in  healing  ne'er  a  Doctor  can  compete, 
Loathsome  lepers,  if  he  touch  them,  start  up  clean  upon  their  feet ; 
Surely  be  could  raise  the  dead  up,  did  his  Highness  think  it  meet 

"  Did  not  once  the  Jewish  Captain  stay  the  sun  upon  the  hill, 
And,  the  while  he  slew  the  foemen,  bid  the  silver  moon  stand  still? 
So,  no  doubt,  could  gracious  Canute,  if  it  were  his  sacred  will" 

"  Might  I  stay  the  sun  above  us,  good  Sir  Bishop  ?  "    Canute  cried ; 
Could  I  bid  the  silver  moon  to  pause  upon  her  heavenly  ride  ? 
If  the  moon  obeys  my  orders,  sure  I  can  command  the  tide. 

*  "Will  the  advancing  waves  obey  me,  Bishop,  if  I  make  the  sign  ?  " 
Said  the  Bishop,  bowing  lowly,  "  Land  and  sea,  my  lord,  are  thine." 
Canute  turned  towards  the  ocean—"  Back ! "  he  said,  "  thou  foaming  brine. 

"  From  the  sacred  shore  I  stand  on,  I  command  thee  to  retreat; 
Venture  not,  thou  stormy  rebel,  to  approach  thy  master's  seat ; 
Ocean,  be  thou  still !  I  bid  thee  come  not  nearer  to  my  feet  1 " 

But  the  sullen  ocean  answered  with  a  louder,  deeper  roar, 

And  the  rapid  waves  drew  nearer,  falling  sounding  on  the  shore ; 

Back  the  Keeper  and  the  Bishop,  back  the  King  and  Courtiers  bore. 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  231 

And  he  sternly  bade  them  never  more  to  kneel  to  human  clay, 
But  alone  to  praise  and  worship  That  which  earth  and  seas  obey, 
And  hie  golden  crown  of  empire  never  wore  he  from  that  day. 
King  Canute  is  dead  and  gone:  Parasites  exist  alway. 

At  this  ballad,  which,  to  be  sure,  was  awfully 
long,  and  as  grave  as  a  sermon,  some  of  the  courtiers 
tittered,  some  yawned,  and  some  affected  to  be  asleep, 
and  snore  outright.  But  Roger  de  Backbite  think- 
ing to  curry  favour  with  the  King  by  this  piece  of 
vulgarity,  his  Majesty  fetched  him  a  knock  on  the 
nose  and  a  buffet  on  the  ear,  which,  I  warrant  me, 
wakened  Master  Roger ;  to  whom  the  King  said, 
"  Listen  and  be  civil,  slave,  Wilfrid  is  singing  about 
thee — Wilfrid,  thy  ballad  is  long,  but  it  is  to  the 
purpose,  and  I  have  grown  cool  during  thy  homily. 
Give  me  thy  hand,  honest  friend.  Ladies,  good- 
night. Gentlemen,  we  give  the  grand  assault  to- 
morrow :  when  I  promise  thee,  Wilfrid,  thy  banner 
shall  not  be  before  mine  " — and  the  King  giving  his 
arm  to  her  Majesty,  retired  into  the  private  pavilion. 


CHAPTER  III. 

ST.    GEORGE    FOR    ENGLAND. 

WHILST  the  Royal  Richard  and  his  court  were  feast- 
ing in  the  camp  outside  the  walls  of  Chalus,  they 


232  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

of  the  castle  were  in  the  most  miserable  plight  that 
may  be  conceived.  Hunger,  as  well  as  the  fierce 
assaults  of  the  besiegers,  had  made  dire  ravages  in 
the  place.  The  garrison's  provisions  of  corn  and 
cattle,  their  very  horses,  dogs,  and  donkeys  had  been 
eaten  up — so  that  it  might  well  be  said  by  Wamba. 
"  that  famine,  as  well  as  slaughter,  had  thinned  the 
garrison."  When  the  men  of  Chalus  came  on  the 
walls  to  defend  it  against  the  scaling  parties  of  King 
Richard — they  were  like  so  many  skeletons  in  ar- 
mour— they  could  hardly  pull  their  bow-strings  at 
last,  or  pitch  down  stones  on  the  heads  of  his  Majes- 
ty's party,  so  weak  had  their  arms  become,  and  the 
gigantic  Count  of  Chalus,  a  warrior  as  redoubtable 
for  his  size  and  strength  as  Richard  Plantagenet 
himself,  was  scarcely  able  to  lift  up  his  battle-axe 
upon  the  day  of  that  last  assault,  when  Sir  "Wilfrid 
of  Ivanhoe  ran  him  through  the  *  *  but  we  are 
advancing  matters. 

What  should  prevent  me  from  describing  the 
agonies  of  hunger  which  the  Count  (a  man  of  large 
appetite)  suffered  in  company  with  his  heroic  sons 
and  garrison  ? — Nothing,  but  that  Dante  has  already 
done  the  business  in  the  notorious  history  of  Count 
Ugolino,  so  that  my  efforts  might  be  considered  as 
mere  imitations.  Why  should  I  not,  if  I  were  mind- 
ed to  revel  in  horrifying  details,  show  you  how  the 
famished  garrison  drew  lots,  and  ate  themselves 


REBECCA    AND    KOWKNA.  233 

during  the  siege ;  and  how  the  unlucky  lot  falling 
upon  the  Countess  of  Chalus,  that  heroic  woman, 
taking  an  affectionate  leave  of  her  family,  caused  her 
large  cauldron  in  the  castle  kitchen  to  be  set  a  boil- 
ing, had  onions,  carrots  and  herbs,  pepper  and  salt 
made  ready,  to  make  a  savoury  soup,  as  the  French 
call  it,  and  when  all  things  were  quite  completed, 
kissed  her  children,  jumped  into  the  cauldron  from 
off  a  kitchen  stool,  and  so  was  stewed  down  in  her 
flannel -bed-gown?  Dear  friends,  it  is  not  from  want 
of  imagination,  or  from  having  no  turn  for  the  terri- 
ble or  pathetic,  that  I  spare  you  these  details. — I 
could  give  you  some  description-  that  would  spoil 
your  dinner  and  night's  rest,  and  make  your  hair 
stand  on  end.  —  But  why  harrow  your  feelings  ? 
Fancy  all  the  tortures  and  horrors  that  possibly  can 
occur  in  a  beleaguered  and  famished  castle  :  fancy 
the  feelings  of  men  who  know  that  no  more  quarter 
will  be  given  them  than  they  would  get  if  they  were 
peaceful  Hungarian  citizens,  kidnapped  and  brought 
to  trial  by  his  Majesty  the  Emperor  of  Austria,  and 
then  let  us  rush  on  to  the  breach,  and  prepare  once 
more  to  meet  the  assault  of  dreadful  King  Richard 
and  his  men, 

On  the  29th  of  March  in  the  year  1199,  the  good 
King,  having  copiously  partaken  of  breakfast,  caused 
his  trumpets  to  blow,  and  advanced  with  his  host 
upon  the  breach  of  the  castle  of  Chalus.  Arthur  de 


234  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

Pendennis  bore  his  banner;  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe 
fought  on  the  King's  right  hand.  Molyneux,  Bishop 
of  Bullocksmithy,  doffed  crosier  and  mitre  for  that 
day.  and  though  fat  and  pursy,  panted  up  the  breach 
with  the  most  resolute  spirit,  roaring  out  war-cries 
and  curses,  and  wielding  a  prodigious  mace  of  iron, 
with  which  he  did  good  execution.  Hugo  de  Backbite 
was  forced  to  come  in  attendance  upon  the  Sovereign, 
but  took  care  to  keep  in  the  rear  of  his  august 
master,  and  to  shelter  behind  his  huge  triangular 
shield  as  much  as  possible.  Many  lords  of  note  fol- 
lowed the  King  and  bore  the  ladders ;  and  as  they 
were  placed  against  the  wall,  the  air  was  perfectly 
dark  with  the  shower  of  arrows  which  the  English 
archers  poured  out  at  the  besiegers  ;  and  the  cata- 
ract of  stones,  kettles,  boot-jacks,  chests  of  drawers, 
crockery,  umbrellas,  congreve-rockets,  bomb-shells, 
bolts  and  arrows,  and  other  missiles  which  the  despe- 
rate garrison  flung  out  on  the  storming  party.  The 
King  received  a  copper  coal-scuttle  right  over  his 
eyes,  and  a  mahogany  wardrobe  was  discharged  at 
his  morion,  which  would  have  felled  an  ox,  and  would 
have  done  for  the  King  had  not  Ivanhoe  warded  it 
off  skilfully.  Still  they  advanced,  the  warriors  fall- 
ing around  them  like  grass  beneath  the  scythe  of  the 
mower. 

The  ladders  were  placed  in  spite  of  the  hail  of 
death  raining  round  ;  the  King  and  Ivanhoe  were,  of 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  235 

course,  the  first  to  mount  them.  Chalus  stood  in  the 
breach,  borrowing  strength  from  despair  ;  and  roaring 
out  "  Ha  !  Plantagenet,  Saint  Barbacue  for  Chalus  !  " 
he  dealt  the  King  a  crack  across  the  helmet  with  his 
battle-axe,  which  shore  off  the  gilt  lion  and  crown 
that  surmounted  the  steel  cap.  The  King  bent  and 
reeled  back  ;  the  besiegers  were  dismayed  ;  the  gar- 
rison and  the  Count  of  Chalus  set  up  a  shout  of  tri- 
umph :  but  it  was  premature. 

As  quick  as  thought  Ivanhoe  was  into  the  Count 
with  a  thrust  in  tierce,  which  took  him  just  at  the 
joint  of  the  armour,  and  ran  him  through  as  clean  as 
a  spit  does  a  partridge.  Uttering  a  horrid  shriek,  he 
fell  back  writhing  ;  the  King  recovering  staggered 

up  the  parapet ;  the  rush  of  knights  followed,  and 

• 
the  union-jack  was  planted  triumphantly  on  the  walls 

just  as  Ivanhoe, — but  we  must  leave  him  for  a  mo- 
ment. 

"Ha,  St.  Richard!— ha,  St.  George!"  the  tre- 
mendous voice  of  the  Lion-king  was  heard  over  the 
loudest  roar  of  the  onset.  At  every  sweep  of  his 
blade  a  severed  head  flew  over  the  parapet,  a  spouting 
trunk  tumbled,  bleeding,  on  the  flags  of  the  bartizan. 
The  world  hath  never  seen  a  warrior  equal  to  that 
Lion-hearted  Plantagenet,  as  he  raged  over  the  keep, 
his  eyes  flashing  fire  through  the  bars  of  his  morion, 
snorting  and  chafing  with  the  hot  lust  of  battle.  One 
by  one  les  enfants  dc  Chalus  had  fallen  ;  there  was 


236  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

only  one  left  at  last  of  all  the  brave  race  that  had 
fought  round  the  gallant  Count : — only  one,  and  but 
a  boy,  a  fair-haired  boy,  a  blue-eyed  boy  !  he  had  been 
gathering  pansies  in  the  field  but  yesterday — it  was 
but  a  few  years,  and  he  was  a  baby  in  his  mother's 
arms !  What  could  his  puny  sword  do  against  the 
most  redoubted  blade  in  Christendom  ? — and  yet  Bo- 
hemond  faced  the  great  champion  of  England,  and 
met  him  foot  to  foot !  Turn  away,  turn  away,  my 
dear  young  friends  and  kind-hearted  ladies  !  Do  not 
look  at  that  ill-fated  poor  boy  !  his  blade  is  crushed 
into  splinters  under  the  axe  of  the  conqueror,  and  the 
poor  child  is  beaten  to  his  knee  !  *  *  * 

"  Now,  by  St.  Barbacue  of  Limoges,"  said  Ber- 
trand  de  Gourdon,  "  the  butcher  will  never  strike 
down  yonder  lambling !  Hold  thy  hand,  Sir  King, 
or,  by  St.  Barbacue — " 

Swift  as  thought  the  veteran  archer  raised  his 
arblast  to  his  shoulder,  the  whizzing  bolt  fled  from 
the  ringing  string,  and  the  next  moment  crushed 
quivering  into  the  corslet  of  Plantagenet. 

'Twas  a  luckless  shot,  Bertrand  of  Gourdon ! 
Maddened  by  the  pain  of  the  wound,  the  brute  nature 
of  Richard  was  aroused  :  his  fiendish  appetite  for 
blood  rose  to  madness,  and  grinding  his  teeth,  and 
with  a  curse  too  horrible  to  mention,  the  flashing  axe 
of  the  royal  butcher  fell  down  on  the  blond  ringlets 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  237 

of  the  child,  and  the  children  of  Chalus  were  no 
more  I  *  *  * 

I  just  throw  this  off  by  way  of  description,  and 
to  show  what  might  be  done  if  I  chose  to  indulge  in 
this  style  of  composition,  but  as  in  the  battles,  which 
are  described  by  the  kindly  chronicler  of  one  of  whose 
works  this  present  masterpiece  is  professedly  a  con- 
tinuation, everything  passes  off  agreeably  ;  the  people 
are  slain,  but  without  any  unpleasant  sensation  to  the 
reader  ;  nay  some  of  the  most  savage  and  blood-stain- 
ed characters  of  history,  such  is  .the  indomitable  good 
humour  of  the  great  novelist,  become  amiable  jovial 
companions,  for  whom  one  has  a  hearty  sympathy — 
so,  if  you  please,  we  will  have  this  fighting  business 
at  Chalus,  and  the  garrison  and  honest  Bertrand  of 
Gourdon,  disposed  of,  the  former  according  to  the 
usage  of  the  good  old  times,  having  been  hung  up,  or 
murdered  to  a  man,  and  the  latter  killed  in  the  man- 
ner described  by  the  late  Dr.  Goldsmith  in  his 
History. 

As  for  the  Lion-hearted,  we  all  very  well  know 
that  the  shaft  of  Bertrand  de  Gourdon  put  an  end  to 
the  royal  hero — and  that  from  that  29th  of  March 
he  never  robbed  or  murdered  any  more.  And  we 
have  legends  in  recondite  books  of  the  manner  of 
the  King's  death. 

"  You   must   die.    my    son,"    said    the   venerable 


238  IlEBECCA   AND    ROWENA. 

Walter  of  Rouen,  as  Berengaria  was  carried  shrieking 
from  the  King's  tent.  "  Repent,  Sir  King,  and  sepa- 
rate yourself  from  your  children  ! " 

"  It  is  ill-jesting  wich  a  dying  man,"  replied  the 
King.  "  Children  have  I  none,  my  good  lord  bishop, 
to  inherit  after  me." 

"  Richard  of  England,"  said  the  archbishop,  turn- 
ing up  his  fine  eyes,  "  your  vices  are  your  children. 
Ambition  is  your  eldest  child,  Cruelty  is  your  second 
child,  Luxury  is  your  third  child,  and  you  have  nou- 
rished them  from  your  youth  up.  Separate  yourself 
from  these  sinful  ones,  and  prepare  your  soul,  for  the 
hour  of  departure  draweth  nigh." 

Violent,  wicked,  sinful,  as  he  might  have  been, 
Richard  of  England  met  his  death  like  a  Christian 
man.  Peace  be  to  the  soul  of  the  brave !  When 
the  news  came  to  King  Philip  of  France,  he 
sternly  forbade  his  courtiers  to  rejoice  at  the  death 
of  his  enemy.  "  It  is  no  matter  of  joy  but  of  dolour," 
he  said,  "  that  the  bulwark  of  Christendom  and  the 
bravest  king  of  Europe  is  no  more." 

Meanwhile  what  has  become  of  Sir  Wilfrid  of 
Ivanhoe,  whom  we  left  in  the  act  of  rescuing  his 
Sovereign  by  running  the  Count  of  Chalus  through 
the  body  ? 

As  the  good  knight  stooped  down  to  pick  his 
sword  out  of  the  corpse  of  his  fallen  foe,  some  one 
coming  behind  him  suddenly  thrust  a  dagger  into  his 


REBECCA    AND    ROVVENA.  239 

back  at  a  place  where  his  shirt  of  mail  was  open  (for 
Sir  Wilfrid  had  armed  that  morning  in  a  hurry,  and  it 
was  his  breast,  not  his  back,  that  he  was  accustomed 
ordinarily  to  protect),  and  when  poor  Wamba  came 
up  on  the  rampart,  which  he  did  when  the  fighting 
was  over — being  such  a  fool  that  he  could  not  be  got 
to  thrust  his  head  into  danger  for  glory's  sake — he 
found  his  dear  knight  with  the  dagger  in  his  back  ly- 
ing without  life  upon  the  body  of  the  Count  de  Cha- 
lus  whom  he  had  anon  slain. 

Ah,  what  a  howl  poor  Wamba  set  up  when  he 
found  his  master  killed  !  How  he  lamented  over  the 
corpse  of  that  noble  knight  and  friend  !  What  mat- 
tered it  to  him  that  Richard  the  King  was  borne 
wounded  to  his  tent,  and  that  Bertrand  de  Gourdon 
was  flayed  alive  ?  At  another  time  the  sight  of  this 
spectacle  might  have  amused  the  simple  knave ;  but 
now  all  his  thoughts  were  of  his  lord,  so  good,  so  gen- 
tle, so  kind,  so  loyal,  so  frank  with  the  great,  so  ten- 
der to  the  poor,  so  truthful  of  speech,  so  modest  re- 
garding his  own  merit,  so  true  a  gentleman,  in  a  word, 
that  anybody  might,  with  reason,  deplore  him. 

As  Wamba  opened  the  dear  knight's  .corslet,  he 
found  a  locket  round  his  neck,  in  which  there  was 
some  hair,  not  flaxen  like  that  of  my  Lady  Rowena. 
who  was  almost  as  fair  as  an  Albino,  but  as  black, 
Wamba  thought,  as  the  locks  of  the  Jewish  maiden 
whom  the  knight  had  rescued  in  the  lists  of  Temple- 


240  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

stowe.  A  bit  of  Rowena's  hair  was  in  Sir  Wilfrid's 
possession,  too,  but  that  was  in  his  purse  along  with 
his  seal  of  arms,  and  a  couple  of  groats  ;  for  the  good 
knight  never  kept  any  money,  so  generous  was  he  of 
his  largesses  when  money  came  in. 

Wamba  took  the  purse,  and  seal,  and  groats,  but 
he  left  the  locket  of  hair  round  his  master's  neck, 
and  when  he  returned  to  England  never  said  a  word 
about  the  circumstance.  After  all,  how  should  he 
know  whose  hair  it  was  ?  It  might  have  been  the 
knight's  grandmother's  hair  for  aught  the  fool  knew  ; 
so  he  kept  his  counsel  when  he  brought  back  the  sad 
news  and  tokens  to  the  disconsolate  widow  at  Rother- 
wood. 

The  poor  fellow  would  never  have  left  the  body  at 
all,  and  indeed  sat  by  it  all  night,  and  until  the  grey 
of  the  morning,  when,  seeing  two  suspicious-looking 
characters  advancing  towards  him,  he  fled  in  dismay, 
supposing  that  they  were  marauders  who  were  out 
searching  for  booty  among  the  dead  bodies ;  and  having 
not  the  least  courage,  he  fled  from  these,  and  tumbled 
down  the  breach,  and  never  stopped  running  as  fast  as 
his  legs  would  carry  him  until  he  reached  the  tents 
of  his  late  beloved  master. 

The  news  of  the  knight's  demise,  it  appeared,  had 
been  known  at  his  quarters  long  before  ;  for  his  ser- 
vants were  gone,  and  had  ridden  off  on  his  horses ; 
his  chests  were  plundered,  there  was  not  so  much  as 


KEBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  241 

a  shirt  collar  left  in  his  drawers,  and  the  very  bed 
and  blankets  had  been  carried  away  by  these  faithful 
attendants.  Who  had  slain  Ivanhoe  ?  That  remains 
a  mystery  to  the  present  day ;  but  Hugo  de  Back- 
bite, whose  nose  he  had  pulled  for  defamation,  and 
who  was  behind  him  in  the  assault  at  Chalus,  was 
seen  two  years  afterwards  at  the  Court  of  King  John 
in  an  embroidered  velvet  waistcoat,  which  Rowena 
could  have  sworn  she  had  worked  for  Ivanhoe,  and 
about  which  the  widow  would  have  made  some  lit- 
tle noise,  but  that — but  that  she  was  no  longer  a 
widow. 

That  she  truly  deplored  the  death  of  h«r  lord, 
cannot  be  questioned,  for  she  ordered  the  deepest 
mourning  which  any  milliner  in  York  could  supply, 
and  erected  a  monument  to  his  memory,  as  big  as  a 
minster.  But  she  was  a  lady  of  such  fine  principles, 
that  she  did  not  allow  her  grief  to  over-master  her  ; 
and  aS  opportunity  speedily  arising  for  uniting  the 
two  best  Saxon  families  in  England,  by  an  alliance 
between  herself  and  the  gentleman  who  offered  him- 
self to  her,  Rowena  sacrified  her  inclination  to  remain 
single,  to  her  sense  of  duty  ;  and  contracted  a  second 
matrimonial  engagement. 

That  Athelstane  was  the  man,  I  suppose  no  reader 
familiar  with  life,  and  novels  (which  are  a  rescript  of 
life,  and  are  all  strictly  natural  and  edifying),  can  for 
11 


242  REBECCA    AND    KOWENA, 

a  moment  doubt.  Cardinal  Pandulfo  tied  the  knot 
for  them  :  and  lest  there  should  be  any  doubt  about 
Ivanhoe's  death  (for  his  body  was  never  sent  home 
after  all,  nor  seen  after  Wamba  ran  away  from  it),  his 
eminence  procured  a  papal  decree,  annulling  the 
former  marriage,  so  that  Rowena  became  Mrs.  Athcl- 
stane  with  a  clear  conscience.  And  who  shall  be  sur- 
prised, if  she  was  happier  with  the  stupid  and  boozy 
thane,  than  with  the  gentle  and  melancholy  Wilfrid  ? 
Did  women  never  have  a  predilection  for  fools,  I 
should  like  to  know  ;  or  fall  in  love  with  donkeys, 
before  the  time  of  the  amours  of  Bottom  and  Titauia? 
:;  Ah  !  Mary,  had  you  not  preferred  an  ass  to  a  man, 
would  you  have  married  Jack  Bray,  when  a  Michael 
Angelo  offered?  Ah !  Fanny,  were  you  not  a  woman, 
would  you  persist  in  adoring  Tom  Hiccups,  who  beats 
you,  and  comes  home  tipsy  from  the  Club  ?  "  Yes, 
Rowena  cared  a  hundred  times  more  about  tipsy 
Athelstane,  than  ever  she  had  done  for  gentle*  Ivan- 
hoe,  and  so  great  was  her  infatuation  about  the  latter, 
that  she  would  sit  upon  his  knee  in  the  presence  of  all 
her  maidens,  and  let  him  smoke  his  cigars  in  the  very 
drawing-room. 

This  is  the  epitaph  she  caused  to  be  written  by 
Father  Drono  (who  piqued  himself  upon  his  Latinity). 
on  the  stone  commemorating  the  death  of  her  late 
lord: 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  243 

3^u  tst  (Exutlfri&us,  fctlli  fount  fctxit  aiilrus ; 
(£iun  sla&io  ft  latma,  Normatmt'a  ft  quoqut  jFrantia 
"Ftritra  imra  fcafcat:  ptr  &uuos  multunt  tqiu'taiat: 
(Ecuilfifrtum  Dftiiit :  atjjuf  J^ifrosolsma  6t&tt. 
^tu !  nuiu  Sufi  fossa  sunt  tantt  railtti's  ossa, 
3Iior  Etfjflstant  tst  tonj'uxtastissima  ®l)ant. 

And   this   is  the  translation  which  the  doggrel 
knave  Wamba  made  of  the  Latin  lines. 

REQUIESCAT. 

Under  the  stone  you  behojd, 
Buried,  and  coffined,  and  cold, 
Lieth  Sir  Wilfrid  the  Bold. 

Always  he  marched  in  advance, 
Warring  in  Flanders  and  France, 
Doughty  with  sword  and  with  lance. 

Famous  in  Saracen  fight, 

Rode  in  his  youth  the  good  knight, 

Scattering  Paynims  in  flight 

Brian  the  Templar  untrue, 
Fairly  in  tourney  he  slew, 
Saw  Hierusalem  too. 

Now  he  is  buried  and  gone, 
Lying  beneath  the  grey  stone : 
Where  shall  you  find  such  a  one  ? 

Long  time  his  widow  deplored, 
Weeping  the  fate  of  her  lord, 
Sadly  cut  off  by  the  sword. 


244  REBECCA    AND    ROVVENA. 

When  she  was  eased  of  her  pain, 
Came  the  good  Lord  Athelstane, 
When  her  ladyship  married  again. 

Athelstane  burst  into  a  loud  laugh,  when  he  heard 
it,  at  the  last  line,  but  Rowena  would  have  had  the 
fool  whipped,  had  not  the  Thane  interceded,  and  to 
him,  she  said,  she  could  refuse  nothing. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

IVANHOE       REDIVIVUS. 

I  TRUST  nobody  will  suppose,  from  the  events  de- 
scribed in  the  last  Chapter,  that  our  friend  Ivanhoe 
is  really  dead.  Because  we  have  given  him  an  epitaph 
or  two  and  a  monument,  are  these  any  reasons  that  he 
should  be  really  gone  out  of  the  world  ?  No  :  as  in 
the  pantomime,  when  we  see  Clown  and  Pantaloon  lay 
out  Harlequin  and  cry  over  him,  we  are  always  sure 
that  Master  Harlequin  will  be  up  at  the  next  minute 
alert  and  shining  in  his  glistening  coat ;  and.  after 
giving  a  box  on  the  ears  to  the  pair  of  them,  will  be 
taking  a  dance  with  Columbine,  or  leaping  gaily 
through  the  clock-face,  or  into  the  three-pair-of-stairs 
window :  — so  Sir  Wilfrid,  the  Harlequin  of  our 
Christmas  piece,  may  be  run  through  a  little,  or  may 
make  believe  to  be  dead,  but  will  assuredly  rise  up 


KEBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  245 

again  when  he  is  wanted,  and  show  himself  at  the 
right  moment. 

The  suspicious-looking  characters  from  whom 
Wamba  ran  away  were  no  cut-throats  and  plunderers 
as  the  poor  knave  imagined,  but  no  other  than  Ivan- 
hoe's  friend,  the  hermit,  and  a  reverend  brother  of  his, 
who  visited  the  scene  of  the  late  battle  in  order  to 
see  if  any  Christians  still  survived  there,  whom  they 
might  shrive  and  get  ready  for  Heaven,  or  to  whom 
they  might  possibly  offer  the  benefit  of  their  skill  as 
leeches.  Both  were  prodigiously  learned  in  the  heal- 
ing art :  and  had  about  them  those  precious  elixirs 
which  so  often  occur  in  romances,  and  with  which 
patients  are  so  miraculously  restored.  Abruptly 
dropping  his  master's  head  from  his  lap  as  he  fled, 
poor  Wamba  caused  the  knight's  pate  to  fall  with 
rather  a  heavy  thump  to  the  ground,  and  if  the  knave 
had  but  stayed  a  minute  longer,  he  would  have  heard 
Sir  Wilfrid  utter  a  deep  groan.  But  though  the  fool 
heard  him  not,  the  holy  hermits  did ;  and  to  recognize 
the  gallant  Wilfrid,  to  withdraw  the  enormous  dagger 
still  sticking  out  of  his  back,  to  wash  the  wound  with 
a  portion  of  the  precious  elixir,  and  to  pour  a  little 
of  it  down  his  throat,  was  with  the  excellent  hermits 
the  work  of  an  instant ;  which  remedies  being  applied, 
one  of  the  good  men  took  the  knight  by  the  heels  and 
the  other  by  the  head,  and  bore  him  daintily  from  the 
castle  to  their  hermitage  in  a  neighbouring  rock.  As 


246  REBECCA    AND    B.OWEXA. 

for  the  Count  of  Chalus,  and  the  remainder  of  the 
slain,  the  hermits  were  too  much  occupied  with  Ivan- 
hoe's  case  to  mind  them,  and  did  not,  it  appears,  give 
them  any  elixir,  so  that,  if  they  are  really  dead,  they 
must  stay  on  the  rampart  stark  and  cold  ;  or  if  other- 
wise, when  the  scene  closes  upon  them  as  it  does  now, 
they  may  get  up,  shake  themselves,  go  to  the  slips  and 
drink  a  pot  of  porter,  or  change  their  stage-clothes 
and  go  home  to  supper.  My  dear  readers,  you  may 
settle  the  matter  among  yourselves  as  you  like.  If 
you  wish  to  kill  the  characters  really  off.  let  them  be 
dead,  and  have  done  with  them  ;  but.  entre  nous,  I 
don't  believe  they  are  any  more  dead  than  you  or  I 
are,  and  sometimes  doubt  whether  there  is  a  single 
syllable  of  truth  in  this  whole  story. 

Well,  Ivanhoe  was  taken  to  the  hermits'  cell,  and 
there  doctored  by  the  holy  fathers  for  his  hurts,  which 
were  of  such  a  severe  and  dangerous  order,  that  he 
was  under  medical  treatment  for  a  very  considerable 
time.  When  he  woke  up  from  his  delirium,  and  asked 
how  long  he  had  been  ill,  fancy  his  astonishment  when 
he  heard  that  he  had  been  in  the  fever  for  six  years  ! 
He  thought  the  reverend  fathers  were  joking  at  first, 
but  their  profession  forbade  them  from  that  sort  of 
levity ;  and  besides,  he  could  not  possibly  have  got 
well  any  sooner,  because  the  story  would  have  been 
sadly  put  out  had  he  appeared  earlier.  And  it  proves 
how  good  the  fathers  were  to  him.  and  how  very  nearly 


REBECCA    AND    RpWENA.  247 

that  scoundrel  of  a  Hugh  de  Backbite's  dagger  had 
finished  him,  that  he  did  not  get  well  under  this  great 
length  of  time,  during  the  whole  of  which  the  fathers 
tended  him  without  ever  thinking  of  a  fee.  I  know 
of  a  kind  physician  in  this  town  who  does  as  much 
sometimes,  but  I  won't  do  him  the  ill  service  of  men- 
tioning his  name  here.  v 

Ivanhoe,  being  now  quickly  pronounced  well,  trim- 
med his  beard,  which  by  this  time  hung  down  consi- 
derably below  his  knees,  and  calling  for  his  suit  of 
chain  armour,  which  before  had  fitted  his  elegant 
person  as  tight  as  wax,  now  put  it  on,  and  it  bagged 
and  hung  so  loosely  about  him,  that  even  the  good 
Friars  laughed  at  his  absurd  appearance.  It  was  im- 
possible that  he  should  go  about  the  country  in  such 
a  garb  as  that :  the  very  boys  would  laugh  at  him :  so 
the  Friars  gave  him  one  of  their  old  gowns,  in  which 
he  disguised  himself ;  and,  after  taking  an  affection- 
ate farewell  of  his  friends,  set  forth  on  his  return  to 
his  native  country.  As  he  went  along,  he  learned 
that  Richard  was  dead,  that  John  reigned,  that  Prince 
Arthur  had  been  poisoned,  and  was  of  course  made 
acquainted  with  various  other  facts  of  public  import- 
ance recorded  in  Pinnock's  Catechism  and  the  Histo- 
ric Page. 

But  these  subjects  did  not  interest  him  near  so 
much  as  his  own  private  affairs  ;  and  I  can  fancy  that 
his  legs  trembled  under  him,  and  his  pilgrim's  staff 


248  REBECCA    AND   ROWENA. 

shook  with  emotion,  as  at  length,  after  many  perils, 
he  came  in  sight  of  his  paternal  mansion  of  Rother- 
wood,  and  saw  once  more  the  chimneys  smoking,  the 
shadows  of  the  oaks  over  the  grass  in  the  sunset,  and 
the  rooks  winging  over  the  trees.  He  heard  the  sup- 
per gong  sounding :  he  knew  his  way  to  the  door  well 
enough  ;  he  entered  the  familiar  hall  with  a  benedicit.e, 
and  without  any  more  words  took  his  place. 

****** 

You  might  have  thought  for  a  moment  that  the 
grey  friar  trembled,  and  his  shrunken  cheek  looked 
deadly  pale;  but  he  recovered  himself  presently,  nor 
could  you  see  his  pallor  for  the  cowl  which  covered 
his  face. 

A  little  boy  was  playing  on  Athelstane's  knee ; 
Rowena,  smiling  and  patting  the  Saxon  Thane  fond- 
ly on  his  broad  bull-head,  filled  him  a  huge  cup  of 
spiced  wine  from  a  golden  jug.  He  drained  a  quart  of 
the  liquor,  and,  turning  round,  addressed  the  friar. — 
•  "  And  so,  grey  frere,  thou  sawest  good  King 
Richard  fall  at  Chalus  by  the  bolt  of  that  felon  bow- 
man ?  " 

"  We  did,  an  it  please  you.  The  brothers  of  our 
house  attended  the  good  King  in  his  last  moments  ; 
in  truth,  he  made  a  Christian  ending  !  " 

"  And  didst  thou  see  the  archer  flayed  alive  ?  It 
must  have  been  rare  sport,"  roared  Athelstane,  laugh- 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  249 

ing  hugely  at  the  joke.  "  How  the  fellow  must  have 
howled ! " 

"  My  love  !  "  said  Rowena,  interposing  tenderly, 
and  putting  a  pretty  white  finger  on  his  lip. 

"  I  would  have  liked  to  see  it  too,"  cried  the 
boy. 

"  That's  my  own  little  Cedric,  and  so  thou 
shalt.  And,  friar,  didst  see  my  poor  kinsman, 
Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe  ?  They  say  he  fought  well 
at  Chalus  ! " 

"  My  sweet  lord,"  again  interposed  Rowena, 
"mention  him  not." 

"  Why  ?  Because  thou  and  he  were  so  tender  in 
days  of  yore — when  you  could  not  bear  my  plain 
face,  being  all  in  love  with  his  pale  one  ?  " 

"  Those  times  are  past  now,  dear  Athelstane,"  said 
his  affectionate  wife,  looking  up  to  the  ceiling. 

"  Marry,  thou  never  couldst  forgive  him  the 
Jewess,  Rowena." 

"  The  odious  hussy  !  don't  mention  the  name  of 
the  unbelieving  creature,"  exclaimed  the  lady. 

"  Well,  well,  poor  Will  was  a  good  lad — a 
thought  melancholy  and  milksop  though.  Why,  a 
pint  of  sack  fuddled  his  poor  brains." 

"  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe  was  a  good  lance,"  said 
the  friar.  "  I  have  heard  there  was  none  better  in 
Christendom.  He  lay  in  our  convent  after  his 
11* 


250  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

wounds,  and  it  was  there  we  tended  him  till  he  died. 
He  was  buried  in  our  north  cloister." 

"And  there's  an  end  of  him,"  said  Athelstane. 
"  But  come,  this  is  dismal  talk.  Where's  Warnba 
the  jester  ?  Let  us  have  a  song.  Stir  up,  Wamba, 
and  don't  lie  like  a  dog  in  the  fire  !  Sing  us  a  song, 
thou  crack-brained  jester,  and  leave  off  whimpering 
for  by-gones.  Tush,  man !  There  be  many  good 
fellows  left  in  this  world." 

"  There  be  buzzards  in  eagles'  nests,"  Wamba 
said,  who  was  lying  stretched  before  the  fire  sharing 
the  hearth  with  the  Thane's  dogs.  "  There  be  dead 
men  alive  and  live  men  dead.  There  be  merry  songs 
and  dismal  songs.  Marry,  and  the  merriest  are  the 
saddest  sometimes.  I  will  leave  off  motley  and  wear 
black,  gossip  Athelstane.  I  will  turn  howler  at 
funerals,  and  then,  perhaps.  I  shall  be  merry.  Mot- 
ley is  fit  for  mutes,  and  black  for  fools.  Give  me 
some  drink,  gossip,  for  my  voice  is  as  cracked  as  my 
brain." 

"  Drink  and  sing,  thou  beast,  and  cease  prating," 
the  Thane  said. 

And  Wamba,  touching  his  rebeck  wildly,  sat  up 
in  the  chimney-side  and  curled  his  lean  shanks 
together  and  began  : — 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  251 


LOVE  AT  TWO  SCORE. 

Ho !  pretty  page,  with  dimpled  chin, 
That  never  has  known  the  barber's  shear, 

All  your  aim  is  woman  to  win. 

This  is  the  way  that  boys  begin. 
Wait  till  you've  come  to  forty  yearl 

Curly  gold  locks  cover  foolish  brains, 
Billing  and  cooing  is  all  your  cheer, 
Sighing  and  singing  of  midnight  strains 
Under  Bonnybells'  window-panes. 
Wait  till  you've  come  to  forty  year! 

Forty  times  over  let  Michaelmass  pass, 
_,_Grrizzling  hair  the  brain  doth  clear ; 
Then  you  know  a  boy  is  an  ass, 
Then  you  know  the  worth  of  a  lass, 
Once  you  have  come  to  forty  year. 

Pledge  me  round,  I  bid  ye  declare, 

All  good  fellows  whose  beards  are  grey ; 
Did  not  the  fairest  of  the  fair 
Common  grow  and  wearisome,  ere 
Ever  a  month  was  past  away  ? 

The  reddest  lips  that  ever  have  kissed, 

The  brightest  eyes  that  ever  have  shone, 
May  pray  and  whisper  and  we  not  list> 
Or  look  away  and  never  be  missed, 
Ere  yet  ever  a  month  was  gone. 


252  KEBECCA    AND    IIOWENA. 

Gillian's  dead,  Heaven  rest  her  bier, 

How  I  loved  her  twenty  years'  syne ! 
Marian's  married,  but  I  sit  here, 
Alive  and  merry  at  forty  year, 

Dipping  my  nose  in  the  Gascon  wine. 

"  Who  taught  thee  that  merry  lay,  Wamba,  thou 
son  of  Witless  ?  "  roared  Athelstane,  clattering  his 
cup  on  the  table  and  shouting  the  chorus. 

"  It  was  a  good  and  holy  hermit,  Sir,  the  pious 
clerk  of  Copmanhurst,  that  you  wot  of,  who  played 
many  a  prank  with  us  in  the  days  that  we  knew  King 
Richard.  Ah,  noble  Sir,  that  was  a  jovial  time  and 
a  good  priest." 

"  They  say  the  holy  priest  is  sure  of  the  next 
bishopric,  my  love,"  said  Rowena.  "  His  majesty 
hath  taken  him  into  much  favour.  My  lord  of  Hun- 
tingdon looked  very  well  at  the  last  ball,  though 
I  never  could  see  any  beauty  in  the  countess — a 
freckled,  blowsy  thing,  whom  they  used  used  to  call 
Maid  Marian ;  though,  for  the  matter  of  that,  what 
between  her  flirtations  with  Major  Littlejohn  and 
Captain  Scarlett,  really —  " 

"  Jealous  again,  haw  !  haw  ! "  laughed  Athel- 
stane. 

"  I  am  above  jealousy,  and  scorn  it,"  Rowena 
answered,  drawing  herself  up  very  majestically. 

"  Well,  well,  Wamba's  was  a  good  song,"  Athel- 
stane said. 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  253 

"  Nay,  a  wicked  song,"  said  Rowena,  turning  up 
her  eyes  as  usual.  "  What !  rail  at  woman's  love  ? 
Prefer  a  filthy  wine-cup  to  a  true  wife  ?  Woman's 
love  is  eternal,  my  Athelstane.  He  who  questions  it 
would  be  a  blasphemer  were  he  not  a  fool.  The 
well-born  and  well-nurtured  gentlewoman  loves  once 
and  once  only." 

"  I  pray  you,  Madam,  pardon  me,  I — I  am  not 
well,"  said  the  grey  friar,  rising  abruptly  from  his 
settle,  and  tottering  down  the  steps  of  the  dais. 
Wamba  sprung  after  him,  his  bells  jingling  as  he 
rose,  and  casting  his  arms  round  the  apparently 
fainting  man,  he  led  him  away  into  the  court. 
"  There  be  dead  men  alive  and  live  men  dead," 
whispered  he.  "  There  be  coffins  to  laugh  at  and 
marriages  to  cry  over.  Said  I  not  sooth,  holy 
friar?"  And  when  they  had  got  out  into  the  soli- 
tary court,  which  was  deserted  by  all  the  followers 
of  the  Thane,  who  were  mingling  in  the  drunken 
revelry  in  the  hall,  Wamba,  seeing  that  none  were 
by,  knelt  down,  and  kissing  the  friar's  garment, 
said,  "  I  knew  thee,  I  knew  thee,  my  lord  and  my 
liege  ! " 

"  Get  up,"  said  Wilfred  of  Ivanhoe,  scarcely  able 
to  articulate  ;  "  only  fools  are  faithful." 

And  he  passed  on  and  into  the  little  chapel 
where  his  father  lay  buried.  All  night  long  the  friar 


254  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

spent  there,  and  Wamba  the  jester  lay  outside  watch- 
ing as  mute  as  the  saint  over  the  porch. 

When  the  morning  came,  Wamba  was  gone  ;  and 
the  knave  being  in  the  habit  of  wandering  hither  and 
thither,  as  he  chose,  little  notice  was  taken  of  his 
absence  by  a  master  and  mistress  who  had  not  much 
sense  of  humour.  As  for  Sir  Wilfrid,  a  gentleman 
of  his  delicacy  of  feelings  could  not  be  expected  to 
remain  in  a  house  where  things  so  naturally  disagree- 
able to  him  were  occurring,  and  he  quitted  Rother- 
wood  incontinently,  after  paying  a  dutiful  visit  to  the 
tomb  where  his  old  father,  Cedric,  was  buried,  and 
hastened  on  to  York,  at  which  city  he  made  himself 
known  to  the  family  attorney,  a  most  respectable 
man,  in  whose  hands  his  ready  money  was  deposited, 
and  took  up  a  sum  sufficient  to  fit  himself  out  with 
credit,  and  a  handsome  retinue,  as  became  a  knight 
of  consideration.  But  he  changed  his  name,  wore  a 
wig  and  spectacles,  and  disguised  himself  entirely,  so 
that  it  was  impossible  his  friends  or  the  public 
should  know  him,  and  thus  metamorphosed,  went 
about  whithersoever  his  fancy  led  him.  He  was 
present  at  a  public  ball  at  York,  which  the  Lord 
Mayor  gave,  danced  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  in  the 
very  same  set  with  Rowena — (who  was  disgusted 
that  Maid  Marian  took  precedence  of  her) — he  saw 
little  Athelstane  overeat  himself  at  the  supper,  and 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  255 

pledged  his  big  father  in  a  cup  of  sack ;  he  met  the 
Reverend  Mr.  Tuck  at  a  missionary  meeting,  where 
he  seconded  a  resolution  proposed  by  that  eminent 
divine  ; — in  fine,  he  saw  a  score  of  his  old  acquaint- 
ances, none  of  whom  recognised  in  him  the  warrior 
of  Palestine  and  Templestowe.  Having  a  large 
fortune  and  nothing  to  do,  he  went  about  this  coun- 
try performing  charities,  slaying  robbers,  rescuing 
the  distressed,  and  achieving  noble  feats  of  arms. 
Dragons  and  giants  existed  in  his  day  no  more,  or  be 
sure  he  would  have  had  a  fling  at  them  :  for  the  truth 
is,  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe  was  somewhat  sick  of  the  life 
which  the  hermits  of  Chalus  had  restored  to  him,  and 
felt  himself  so  friendless  and  solitary  that  he  would 
not  have  been  sorry  to  come  to  an  end  of  it.  Ah  ! 
my  dear  friends  and  intelligent  British  public,  are 
there  not  others  who  are  melancholy  under  a  mask 
of  gaiety,  and  who,  in  the  midst  of  crowds,  are 
lonely  ?  Listen  was  a  most  melancholy  man  ;  Grim- 
aid  i  had  feelings ;  and  there  are  others  I  wot  of — 
but  psha — let  us  have  the  next  chapter. 


256  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

CHAPTER  V. 

1VANHOE    TO    THE    RESCUE. 

THE  rascally  manner  in  which  the  chicken-livered 
successor  of  Richard  of  the  Lion-heart  conducted  him- 
self to  all  parties,  to  his  relatives,  his  nobles,  and  his 
people,  is  a  matter  notorious,  and  set  forth  clearly  in 
the  Historic  Page :  hence,  although  nothing,  except 
perhaps  success,  can,  in  my  opinion,  excuse  disaffection 
to  the  Sovereign,  or  appearance  in  armed  rebellion 
against  him,  the  loyal  reader  will  make  allowance  for 
two  of  the  principal  personages  of  this  narrative,  who 
will  have  to  appear  in  the  present  Chapter,  in  the 
odious  character  of  rebels  to  their  lord  and  king.  It 
must  be  remembered,  in  partial  exculpation  of  the 
fault  of  Ivanhoe  and  Rowena  (a  fault  for  which  they 
were  bitterly  punished,  as  you  shall  presently  hear), 
that  the  Monarch  exasperated  his  subjects  in  a  variety 
of  ways, — that  before  he  murdered  his  royal  nephew, 
Prince  Arthur,  there  was  a  great  question  whether  he 
was  the  rightful  King  of  England  at  all, — that  his 
behaviour  as  an  uncle,  and  a  family  man,  were  likely 
to  wound  the  feelings  of  any  lady  and  mother, — final- 
ly, that  there  were  palliations  for  the  conduct  of  Row- 
ena and  Ivanhoe,  which  it  now  becomes  our  duty  to 
relate. 


REBECCA    AND    KOWENA.  257 

When  his  Majesty  destroyed  Prince  Arthur,  the 
Lady  Rowena,  who  was  one  of  the  ladies  of  honour 
to  the  Queen,  gave  up  her  place  at  Court  at  once,  and 
retired  to  her  castle  of  Rotherwood.  Expressions 
made  use  of  by  her,  and  derogatory  to  the  character 
of  the  Sovereign,  were  carried  to  the  Monarch's  ears, 
by  some  of  those  parasites,  doubtless,  by  whom  it  is 
the  curse  of  kings  to  be  attended  ;  and  John  swore, 
by  St.  Peter's  teeth,  that  he  would  be  revenged  upon 
the  haughty  Saxon  lady. — a  kind  of  oath,  which, 
though  he  did  not  trouble  himself  about  all  other  oaths, 
he  was  never  known  to  break.  It  was  not  for  some 
years  after  he  had  registered  this  vow.  that  he  was 
enabled  to  keep  it. 

Had  Ivanhoe  been  present  at  Rouen,  when  the. 
King  meditated  his  horrid  designs  against  his  nephew, 
there  is  little  doubt  that  Sir  Wilfrid  would  have 
prevented  them,  and  rescued  the  boy :  for  Ivanhoe 
was,  we  need  scarcely  say,  a  hero  of  romance  ;  and  it 
is  the  custom  and  duty  of  all  gentlemen  of  that  pro- 
fession to  be  present  on  all  occasions  of  historic  inter- 
est, to  be  engaged  in  all  conspiracies,  royal  interviews, 
and  remarkable  occurrences. — and  hence  Sir  Wilfrid 
would  certainly  have  rescued  the  young  Prince,  had 
he  been  any  where  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Rouen, 
where  the  foul  tragedy  occurred.  But  he  was  a 
couple  of  hundred  leagues  off  at  Chalus  when  the 
circumstance  happened  :  tied  down  in  bis  bed  as  crazy 


258  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

as  a  Bedlamite,  and  raving  ceaselessly  in  the  Hebrew 
tongue,  which  he  had  caught  up  during  a  previous  ill- 
ness in  which  he  was  tended  by  a  maiden  of  that  na- 
tion, about  a  certain  Rebecca  Ben  Isaacs,  of  whom, 
being  a  married  man,  he  never  would  have  thought, 
had  he  been  in  his  sound  senses.  During  this  deliri- 
um, what  were  Politics  to  him,  or  he  to  Politics? 
King  John  or  King  Arthur  were  entirely  indifferent 
to  a  man  who  announced  to  his  nurse-tenders,  the 
good  hermits  of  Chalus  before  mentioned,  that  he  was 
the  Marquis  of  Jericho,  and  about  to  marry  Rebecca 
the  Queen  of  Sheba.  In  a  word,  he  only  heard  of 
what  had  occurred,  when  he  reached  England,  and 
his  senses  were  restored  to  him.  Whether  was  he 
.happier,  sound  of  brain,  and  entirely  miserable  (as 
any  man  would  be  who  found  so  admirable  a  wife  as 
Rowena  married  again),  or  perfectly  crazy,  the  hus- 
band of  the  beautiful  Rebecca  ?  I  don't  know  which 
he  liked  best. 

Howbeit  the  conduct  of  King  John  inspired  Sir 
Wilfrid  with  so  thorough  a  detestation  of  that  Sover- 
eign, that  he  never  could  be  brought  to  take  service 
under  him  :  to  get  himself  presented  at  St.  James's,  or 
in  any  way  to  acknowledge,  but  by  stern  acquiescence, 
the  authority  of  the  sanguinary  successor  of  his  be- 
loved King  Richard.  It  was  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe, 
I  need  scarcely  say,  who  got  the  Barons  of  England 
to  league  together  and  extort  from  the  King  that  fa- 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  259 

mous  instrument  and  palladium  of  our  liberties  at 
present  in  the  British  Museum,  Great  Russell  Street. 
Bloomsbury — the  MAGNA  CIIARTA.  His  name  does 
not  naturally  appear  in  th'e  list  of  Barons,  because  he 
was  only  a  knight,  and  a  knight  in  disguise  too :  nor 
does  Athelstane's  signature  figure  on  that  document. 
Athelstane,  in  the  first  place,  could  not  write  ;  nor 
did  he  care  a  penny-piece  about  politics,  so  long  as  he 
could  drink  his  wine  at  home  undisturbed,  and  have 
his  hunting  and  shooting  in  quiet. 

It  was  not  until  the  King  wanted  to  interfere  with 
the  sport  of  .every  gentleman  in  England  (as  we  know 
by  reference  to  the  Historic  Page  that  this  odious 
monarch  did),  that  Athelstane  broke  out  into  open 
rebellion,  along  with  several  Yorkshire  squires  and 
noblemen.  It  is  recorded  of  the  King,  that  he  forbade 
every  man  to  hunt  his  own  deer  ;  and.  in  order  to 
secure  an  obedience  to  his  orders,  this  Herod  of  a 
monarch  wanted  to  secure  the  eldest  sons  of  all  the 
nobility  and  gentry,  as  hostages  for  the  good  behav- 
iour of  their  parents. 

Athelstane  was  anxious  about  his  game — Rowena 
was  anxious  about  her  son.  The  former  swore  that 
he  would  hunt  his  deer  in  spite  of  all  Norman  tyrants 
— the  latter  asked,  should  she  give  up  her  boy  to  the 
ruffian  who  had  murdered  his  own  nephew?*  The 

*  See  Hume,  Giraldus  Cambrensis,  The  Monk  of  Croyland, 
and  Pinnoek's  Catechism. 


200  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

speeches  of  both  were  brought  to  the  King  at  York  ; 
and,  furious,  he  ordered  an  instant  attack  upon  Rother- 
wood,  and  that  the  lord  and  lady  of  that  castle  should 
be  brought  before  him  dead  or  alive. 

Ah,  where  was  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe,  the  uncon- 
querable champion,  to  defend  the  castle  against  the 
royal  party  ?  A  few  thrusts  from  his  lance  would 
have  spitted  the  leading  warriors  of  the  King's  host : 
a  few  cuts  from  his  sword  would  have  put  John's 
forces  to  rout.  But  the  lance  and  sword  of  Ivanhoe 
were  idle  on  this  occasion.  "  No,  be  hanged  to  me  ! " 
said  the  knight,  bitterly,  :t  this  is  a  quarrel  in  which 
I  can't  interfere.  Common  politeness  forbids.  Let 
yonder  ale-swilling  Athelstane  defend  his,  ha,  ha. 
wife :  and  my  lady  Rowena  guard  her,  ha,  ha.  ha,  son." 
And  he~laughed  wildly  and  madly :  and  the  sarcastic 
way  in  which  he  choked  and  gurgled  out  the  words 
"  wife  "  and  ';  son  "  would  have  made  you  shudder  to 
hear. 

When  he  heard,  however,  that,  on  the  fourth  day 
of  the  siege,  Athelstane  had  been  slain  by  a  cannon 
ball  (and  this  time  for  good,  and  not  to  come  to  life 
again  as  he  had  done  before),  and  that  the  widow 
(if  so  the  innocent  bigamist  may  be  called)  was  con- 
ducting the  defence  of  Rotherwood  herself  with 
the  greatest  intrepidity,  showing  herself  upon  the 
walls,  with  her  little  son  (who  bellowed  like  a  bull, 
and  did  not  like  the  fighting  at  all),  pointing  the  guns 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  261 

and  encouraging  the  garrison  in  every  way — better 
feelings  returned  to  the  bosom  of  the  knight  of  Ivan- 
hoe,  and  summoning  his  men,  he  armed  himself  quick- 
ly, and  determined  to  go  forth  to  the  rescue. 

He  rode  without  stopping  for  two  days  and  two 
nights  in  the  direction  of  Rotherwood,  with  such 
swiftness  and  disregard  for  refreshment,  indeed,  that 
his  men  dropped  one  by  one  upon  the  road,  and  he 
arrived  alone  at  the  lodge  gate  of  the  park.  The  windows 
were  smashed  ;  the  door  stove  in ;  the  lodge,  a  neat 
little  Swiss  cottage,  with  a  garden,  where  the  pina- 
fores of  Mrs.  Gurth's  children  might  have  been  seen 
hanging  on  the  gooseberry  bushes  in  more  peaceful 
times,  was  now  a  ghastly  heap  of  smoking  ruins — 
cottage,  bushes,  pinafores,  children  lay  mangled  to- 
gether, destroyed  by  the  licentious  soldiery  of  an  in- 
furiate monarch  !  Far  be  it  from  me  to  excuse  the 
disobedience  of  Athelstane  and  Rowena  to  their 
Sovereign  ;  but  surely,  surely  this  cruelty  might  have 
been  spared. 

Gurth,  who  was  lodge-keeper,  was  lying  dread- 
fully wounded  and  expiring  at  the  flaming  and  vio- 
lated threshold  of  his  lately  picturesque  home.  A 
catapult  and  a  couple  of  mangonels  had  done  hia 
business.  The  faithful  fellow,  recognizing  his  mas- 
ter, who  had  put  up  his  visor  and  forgotten  his  wig 
and  spectacles  in  the  agitation  of  the  moment,  ex- 
claimed. "  Sir  Wilfrid  !  my  dear  master — praised  be 


262  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

St.  Waltheof — there  may  be  yet  time — my  beloved 
mistr — master  Atheist  ..."  He  sank  back,  and 
never  spoke  again. 

Ivanhoe  spurred  on  his  horse  Bavieca  madly  up 
the  chestnut  avenue.  The  castle  was  before  him  ; 
the  western  tower  was  in  flames  ;  the  besiegers  were 
pressing  at  the  southern  gate  ;  Athelstane's  banner, 
the  bull  rampant,  was  still  on  the  northern  bartizan. 
"  An  Ivanhoe,  an  Ivanhoe  ! "  he  bellowed  out.  with  a 
shout  that  overcame  all  the  din  of  battle — Notre 
Dame  a  la  rescousse — and  to  hurl  his  lance  through 
the  midriff  of  Reginald  de  Bracy,  who  was  command- 
ing the  assault,  who  fell  howling  with  anguish,  to 
wave  his  battle-axe  over  his  own  head,  and  cut  off 
those  of  thirteen  men-at-arms,  was  the  work  of  an  in- 
stant. ::  An  Ivanhoe,  an  Ivanhoe  ! "  he  still  shouted, 
and  down  went  a  man  as  sure  as  he  said  '  hoe.' 

£t  Ivanhoe  !  Ivanhoe  ! "  a  shrill  voice  cried  from 
the  top  of  the  northern  bartizan.  Ivanhoe  knew  it. 

"  Rowena  !  my  love  !  I  come  !"  he  roared  on  his 
part.  "  Villains  !  touch  but  a  hair  of  her  head,  and 
I " 

Here,  with  a  sudaen  plunge  and  a  squeal  of  ago- 
ny, Bavieca  sprang  forward  wildly,  and  fell  as  wildly 
on  her  back,  rolling  over  and  over  upon  the  knight. 
All  was  dark  before  him  :  his  brain  reeled  ;  it 
whizzed  :  something  came  crashing  down  on  his  fore- 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  263 

head.  St.  Waltheof,  and  all  the  saints  of  the  Saxon 
calendar  protect  the  knight  !  *  *  * 

When  he  came  to  himself,  Wamba  and  the  lieu- 
tenant of  his  lances  were  leaning  over  him  with  a  bot- 
tle of  the  hermit's  elixir.  "  We  arrived  here  the  day 
after  the  battle,"  said  the  fool ;  "  marry,  I  have  a 
knack  of  that." 

"  Your  worship  rode  so  deucedly  quick,  there  was 
no  keeping  up  with  your  worship,"  said  the  lieu- 
tenant. 

"  The  day — after — the  bat — "  groaned  Ivanhoe. 
— "  Where  is  the  Lady  Rowena  ?  " 

"  The  castle  has  been  taken  and  sacked/'  the  lieu- 
tenant said, — and  pointed  to  what  once  was  Rother- 
wood,  but  was  now  only  a  heap  of  smoking  ruins. — 
Not  a  tower  was  left,  not  a  roof,  not  a  floor,  not  a 
single  human  being  !  Everything  was  flame  and 
ruin,  smash  and  murther  ! 

Of  course  Ivanhoe  fell  back  fainting  again  among 
the  ninety-seven  men-at-arms  whom  he  had  slain  ; 
and  it  was  not  until  Wamba  had  applied  a  second, 
and  uncommonly  strong,  dose  of  elixir  that  he  came 
to  life  again.  The  good  knight  was.  however,  from 
long  practice,  so  accustomed  to  the  severest  wounds, 
that  he  bore  them  far  more  easily  than  common  folk, 
and  thus  was  enabled  to  reach  York  upon  a  litter, 
which  his  men  constructed  for  him.  with  tolerable 
ease. 


264  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

Rumour  had  as  usual  advanced  him  ;  and  he 
heard  at  the  hotel  where  he  stopped,  what  had  been 
the  issue  of  the  affair  at  Rotherwood.  A  minute 
or  two  after  his  horse  was  stabbed,  and  Ivanhoe 
knocked  down,  the  western  bartizan  was  taken  by 
the  storming  party  which  invested  it,  and  every  soul 
slain,  except  Rowena  and  her  boy ;  who  were  tied 
upon  horses  and  carried  away,  under  a  secure  guard, 
to  one  of  the  King's  castles — nobody  knew  whither 
— and  Ivanhoe  was  recommended  by  the  hotel-keeper 
(whose  house  he  had  used  in  former  times)  to  reas- 
sume  his  wig  and  spectacles,  and  not  call  himself  by 
his  own  name  any  more,  lest  some  of  the  King's  peo- 
ple should  lay  hands  on  him.  However,  as  he  had 
killed  everybody  round  about  him,  there  was  but  lit- 
tle danger  of  his  discovery ;  and  the  Knight  of  the 
Spectacles,  as  he  was  called,  went  about  York  unmo- 
lested, and  at  liberty  to  attend  to  his  own  affairs. 

We  wish  to  be  brief  in  narrating  this  part  of  the 
gallant  hero's  existence  ;  for  his  life  was  one  of  feel- 
ing rather  than  affection,  and  the  description  of  mere 
sentiment  is  considered  by  many  well-informed  per- 
sons to  be  tedious.  What  were  his  sentiments,  now. 
it  may  be  asked,  under  the  peculiar  position  in  which 
he  found  himself  ?  He  had  done  his  duty  by  Rowe- 
na. certainly ;  no  man  could  say  otherwise.  But  as 
for  being  in  love  with  her  any  more,  after  what  had 
occurred,  that  was  a  different  question.  Well,  come 


K.EBECCA    AND    R.OWENA,  265 

what  would,  he  was  determined  still  to  continue  do- 
ing his  duty  by  her  ; — but  as  she  was  whisked  away, 
the  deuce  knew  whither,  how  could  he  do  anything  ? 
So  he  resigned  himself  to  the  fact  that  she  was  thus 
whisked  away. 

He,  of  course,  sent  emissaries  about  the  country 
to  endeavour  to  find  out  where  Rowena  was  ;  but 
these  came  back  without  any  sort  of  intelligence ; 
and  it  was  remarked,  that  he  still  remained  in  a  per- 
fect state  of  resignation.  He  remained  in  this  con- 
dition for  a  year,  or  more  ;  and  it  was  said  that  he 
was  becoming  more  cheerful,  and  he  certainly  was 
growing  rather  fat.  The  Knight  of  the  Spectacles 
was  voted  an  agreeable  man  in  a  grave  way ;  and 
gave  some  very  elegant,  though  quiet,  parties,  and 
was  received  in  the  best  society  of  York. 

It  was  just  at  assize-time,  the  lawyers  and  barris- 
ters had  arrived,  and  the  town  was  unusually  gay ; 
when,  one  morning,  the  attorney,  whom  we  have 
mentioned  as  Sir  Wilfrid's  man  of  business,  and  a 
most  respectable  man,  called  upon  his  gallant  client 
at  his  lodgings,  and  said  he  had  a  communication 
of  importance  to  make.  Having  to  communicato 
with  a  client  of  rank,  who  was  condemned  to  be 
hanged  for  forgery,  Sir  Hugo  de  Backbite,  the  attor- 
ney said,  he  had  been  to  visit  that  party  in  the  con- 
demned cell ;  and  on  the  way  through  the  yard,  and 
through  the  bars  of  another  cell,  had  seen  and  recog- 
12 


266  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

nized  an  old  acquaintance  of  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe 
— and  the  lawyer  held  him  out,  with  a  particular 
look,  a  note,  written  on  a  piece  of  whity-brown  paper. 
What  were  Ivanhoe'e  sensations  when  he  recog- 
nised the  handwriting  of  Rowena  ! — he  tremblingly 
dashed  open  the  billet,  and  read  as  follows  : — 

"  MY  DEAREST  IVANHOE  : — For  I  am  thine  now 
as  erst,  and  my  first  love  was  ever — ever  dear  to  me. 
Hare  I  been  near  thee  dying  for  a  whole  year,  and 
didst  thou  make  no  effort  to  rescue  thy  Rowena? 
Have  ye  given  to  others — I  mention  not  their  name 
nor  their  odious  creed — the  heart  that  ought  to  be 
mine  1  I  send  thee  my  forgiveness  from  my  dying 
pallet  of  straw. — I  forgive  thee  the  insults  I  have 
received,  the  cold  and  hunger  I  have  endured,  the 
failing  health  of  my  boy,  the  bitterness  of  my  prison, 
thy  infatuation  about  that  Jewess,  which  made  our 
married  life  miserable,  and  which  caused  thee,  I  am 
sure,  to  go  abroad  to  look  after  her. — I  forgive  thee 
all  my  wrongs,  and  fain  would  bid  thee  farewell. 
Mr.  Smith  hath  gained  over  my  gaoler — he  will  tell 
thee  how  I  may  see  thee.— Come  and  console  my 
last  hour  by  promising  that  thou  wilt  care  for  my 
boy — his  boy  who  fell  like  a  hero  (when  thou  wert 
absent)  combating  by  the  side  of 

t:  ROWENA." 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA  267 


The  reader  may  consult  his  own  feelings,  and  say 
whether  Ivanhoe  was  likely  to  be  pleased  or  not  by 
this  letter  ;  however,  he  inquired  of  Mr.  Smith,  the 
solicitor,  what  was  the  plan  which  that  gentleman 
had  devised  for  the  introduction  to  Lady  Rowena, 
and  was  informed,  that  he  was  to  get  a  barrister's 
gown  and  wig,  when  the  gaoler  would  introduce  him 
into  the  interior  of  the  prison.  These  decorations, 
knowing  several  gentlemen  of  the  Northern  Circuit, 
Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe  easily  procured,  and,  with 
feelings  of  no  small  trepidation,  reached  the  cell 
where,  for  the  space  of  a  year,  poor  Rowena  had 
been  immured. 

If  any  person  have  a  doubt  of  the  correctness,  of 
the  historical  exactness,  of  this  narrative,  I  refer 
him  to  the  "  Biographic  Universelle"  (article  Jean 
sans  Terre),  which  says.  "  La  femme  d'un  baron  au- 
quel  on  vint  demander  son  fils,  repondit,  'Le  roi 
pense-t-il  que  je  confierai  mon  fils  a  un  homme  qui  a 
egorge  son  neveu  de  sa  propre  main  ?  '  Jean  fit  en- 
lever  la  mere  et  1'enfant,  et  la  laissa  mourir  de  faim 
dans  les  cachots." 

I  picture  to  myself,  with  a  painful  sympathy, 
Rowena  undergoing  this  disagreeable  sentence.  All 
her  virtues,  her  resolution,  her  chaste  energy  and 
perseverance,  shine  with  redoubled  lustre,  and,  for 
the  first  time  since  the  commencement  of  the  history, 
I  feel  that,  I  am  partially  reconciled  to  her.  The 


268  REBECCA    AND    ROWEXA. 

weary  year  passes — she  grows  weaker  and  more  lan- 
guid, thinner  and  thinner  !  At  length  Ivanhoe,  in 
the  disguise  of  a  barrister  of  the  Northern  Circuit,  is 
introduced  to  her  cell,  and  finds  his  lady  in  the  last 
stage  of  exhaustion,  on  the  straw  of  her  dungeou. 
with  her  little  boy  in  her  arms.  She  has  preserved 
his  life  at  the  expense  of  her  own,  giving  him  the 
whole  of  the  pittance  which  her  gaolers  allowed  her, 
and  perishing  herself  of  inanition. 

There  is  a  scene  !  I  feel  as  if  I  had  made  it  up, 
as  it  were,  with  this  lady,  and  that  we  part  in  peace, 
in  consequence  of  my  providing  her  with  so  sublime 
a  death-bed.  Fancy  Ivanhoe's  entrance — their  re- 
cognition— the  faint  blush  upon  her  worn  features — 
the  pathetic  way  in  which  she  gives  little  Cedric  in 
charge  to  him.  and  his  promises  of  protection. 

"  Wilfrid,  my  early  loved."  slowly  gasped  she,  re- 
moving her  grey  hair  from  her  furrowed  temples,  and 
gazing  on  her  boy  fondly,  as  he  nestled  on  Ivanhoe's 
knee — "  Promise  me  by  St.  Waltheof  of  Temple- 
stowe  ;  promise  me  one  boon  !  " 

':I  do,"  said  Ivanhoe.  clasping  the  boy.  and  think- 
ing it  was  to  that  little  innocent  the  promise  was  in- 
tended to  apply. 

"  By  St.  Waltheof  ?  " 

"  By  St.  Waltheof  !  " 

"  Promise   me,    then."    gasped    Rowena.    staring 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  269 

wildly    at    him,   "  that    you    never    will    marry    a 
Jewess  ? " 

"  By  St.  Waltheof."  cried  Ivanhoe,  "  this  is  too 
much  !  Rowena  ! "  But  he  felt  his  hand  grasped  for 
a  moment,  the  nerves  then  relaxed,  the  pale  lip  ceased 
to  quiver — she  was  no  more  ! 


CHAPTER  VI. 

IVANHOE    THE    WIDOWER. 

HAVING  placed  young  Cedric  at  School  at  the 
Hall  of  Dotheboyes,  in  Yorkshire,  and  arranged  his 
family  affairs,  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe  quitted  a  coun- 
try which  had  no  longer  any  charms  for  him,  and  in 
which  his  stay  was  rendered  the  less  agreeable  by  the 
notion  that  King  John  would  hang  him  if  ever  he 
could  lay  hands  on  the  faithful  follower  of  King  Ri- 
chard and  Prince  Arthur. 

But  there  was  always  in  those  days  a  home  and 
occupation  for  a  brave  and  pious  knight.  A  saddle 
on  a  gallant  war-horse,  a  pitched  field  against  the 
Moors,  a  lance  wherewith  to  spit  a  turbaned  infidel, 
or  a  road  to  Paradise  carved  out  by  his  scimetar, — 
these  were  the  height  of  the  ambition  of  good  and 
religious  warriors ;  and  so  renowned  a  champion  as 
Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe  was  sure  to  be  well  r<  ceived 


270  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

wherever  blows  were  stricken  for  the  cause  of  Chris- 
tendom. Even  among  the  dark  Templars,  he  who  had 
twice  overcome  the  most  famous  lance  of  their  Order 
was  a  respected  though  not  a  welcome  guest :  but 
among  the  opposition  company  of  the  Knights  of  St. 
John,  he  was  admired  and  courted  beyond  measure  ; 
and  always  affectioning  that  Order,  which  offered  him, 
indeed,  its  first  rank  and  commanderies,  he  did  much 
good  service,  fighting  in  their  ranks  for  the  glory  of 
Heaven  and  St.  Waltheof,  and  slaying  many  thou- 
sands of  the  heathen  in  Prussia,  Poland,  and  those 
savage  northern  countries.  The  only  fault  that  the 
great  and  gallant,  though  severe  and  ascetic  Folko 
of  Heydenbi'aten,  the  chief  of  the  Order  of  St.  John, 
found  with  the  melancholy  warrior,  whose  lance  did 
such  good  service  to  the  cause,  was,  that  he  did  not 
persecute  the  Jews  as  so  religious  a  knight  should. 
He  let  off  sundry  captives  of  that  persuasion  whom 
he  had  taken  with  his  sword  and  his  spear,  saved 
others  from  torture,  and  actually  ransomed  the  two 
last  grinders  of  a  venerable  rabbi  (that  Roger  de 
Cartright,  an  English  knight  of  the  Order,  was  about 
to  extort  from  the  elderly  Israelite),  with  a  hundred 
crowns  and  a  gimmal  ring,  which  were  all  the  pro- 
perty he  possessed.  Whenever  he  so  ransomed  or 
benefited  one  of  this  religion,  he  would  moreover  give 
them  a  little  token  or  a  message  (were  the  good  knight 
out  of  money),  saying,  "  Take  this  token,  and  remem- 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  271 

ber  this  deed  was  done  by  Wilfrid  the  Disinherited, 
for  the  services  whilome  rendered  to  him  by  Rebecca, 
the  daughter  of  Isaac  of  York  ! "  So  among  them- 
selves, and  in  their  meetings  and  synagogues,  and  in 
their  restless  travels  from  land  to  land,  when  they  of 
Jewry  cursed  and  reviled  all  Christians,  as  such 
abominable  heathens  will,  they  nevertheless  excepted 
the  name  of  the  Desdichado,  or  the  doubly-disinherit- 
ed as  he  now  was,  the  Desdiehado-Doblado. 

The  account  of  all  the  battles,  storms,  and  scala- 
does  in  which  Sir  Wilfrid  took  part,  would  only  weary 
the  reader,  for  the  chopping  off  one  heathen's  head 
with  an  axe  must  be  very  like  the  decapitation  of 
any  other  unbeliever.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  wher- 
ever this  kind  of  work  was  to  be  done,  and  Sir  Wil- 
frid was  in  the  way,  he  was  the  man  to  perform  it. 
It  would  astonish  you  were  you  to  see  the  account 
that  Wamba  kept  of  his  master's  achievements,  and 
of  the  Bulgarians,  Bohemians,  Croatians,  slain  or 
maimed  by  his  hand  ;  and  as,  in  those  days,  a  repu- 
tation for  valour  had  an  immense  effect  upon  the  soft 
hearts  of  women  ;  and  even  the  ugliest  man,  were  he 
a  stout  warrior,  was  looked  upon  with  favour  by 
Beauty :  so  Ivanhoe,  who  was  by  no  means  ill-favour- 
ed, though  now  becoming  rather  elderly,  made  con- 
quests over  female  breasts,  as  well  as  over  Saracens, 
and  had  more  than  one  direct  offer  of  marriage  made 
to  him  by  princesses,  countesses,  and  noble  ladies 


REBECCA    AND    KOWENA. 


possessing  both  charms  and  money,  which  they  were 
anxious  to  place  at  the  disposal  of  a  champion  so  re- 
nowned. It  is  related  that  the  Duchess  Regent  of 
Kartoffelberg  offered  him  her  hand,  and  the  Ducal 
Crown  of  Kartoffelberg,  which  he  had  rescued  from 
the  unbelieving  Prussians ;  but  Ivunhoe  evaded  tin; 
Duchess's  offer,  by  riding  away  from  her  capital 
secretly  at  midnight,  and  hiding  himself  in  a  convent 
of  Knights  Hospitallers,  on  the  borders  of  Poland  ;  and 
it  is  a  fact  that  the  Princess  Rosalia  Seraphina  of 
Pumpernickel,  the  most  lovely  woman  of  her  time, 
became  so  frantically  attached  to  him.  that  she  fol- 
lowed him  on  a  campaign,  and  was  discovered  with 
his  baggage  disguised  as  a  horse-boy.  But  no  prin- 
cess, no  beauty,  no  female  blandishments  had  any 
charms  for  Ivanhoe :  no  hermit  practised  a  more 
austere  celibacy.  The  severity  of  his  morals  con- 
trasted so  remarkably  with  the  lax  and  dissolute 
manner  of  the  young  lords  and  nobles  in  the  courts 
which  he  frequented,  that  these  young  springalds 
would  sometimes  sneer  and  call  him  Monk  and  Milk- 
sop ;  but  his  courage  in  the  day  of  battle  was  so  ter- 
rible and  admirable,  that  I  promise  you  the  youthful 
libertines  did  not  sneer  then ;  and  the  most  reckless 
of  them  often  turned  pale  when  they  couched  their 
lances  to  follow  Ivanhoe.  Holy  Waltheof!  it  was 
an  awful  sight  to  see  him  with  his  pale,  calm  face, 
his  shield  upon  his  breast,  his  heavy  lance  before 


REBECCA    AND    ROVVENA.  273 

him,  charging  a  squadron  of  Heathen  Bohemians,  or 
a  regiment  of  Cossacks  !  Wherever  he  saw  the 
enemy,  Ivanhoe  assaulted  him  ;  and  when  people  re- 
monstrated with  him,  and  said  if  he  attacked  such 
and  such  a  post,  breach,  castle,  or  army,  he  would  be 
slain,  "  And  suppose  I  be?  "  he  answered,  giving  them 
to  understand  that  he  would  as  lief  the  Battle  of 
Life  were  over  altogether. 

While  he  was  thus  making  war  against  the  nor- 
thern infidels,  news  was  carried  all  over  Christendom 
of  a  catastrophe  which  had  befallen  the  good  cause  in 
the  south  of  Europe,  where  the  Spanish  Christians 
had  met  with  such  a  defeat  and  massacre  at  the  hands 
of  the  Moors,  as  had  never  been  known  in  the  proud- 
est days  of  Saladin. 

Thursday,  the  9th  of  Shaban,  in  the  605th  year  of 
the  Hejira,  is  known  all  over  the  West  as  the  amunal- 
ark,  the  year  of  the  battle  of  Alarcos,  gained  over  the 
Christians  by  the  Moslems  of  Andalus,  on  which  fa- 
tal day  Christendom  suffered  a  defeat  so  signal,  that 
it  was  feared  the  Spanish  Peninsula  would  be  entire- 
ly wrested  away  from  the  dominion  of  the  Cross. 
On  that  day  the  Franks  lost  1 50,000  men  and  30,000 
prisoners.  A  man-slave  sold  among  the  unbelievers 
for  a  dirhem  ;  a  donkey,  for  the  same ;  a  sword,  half 
a  dirhem  ;  a  horse,  five  dirhems.  Hundreds  of  thou- 
sands of  these  various  sorts  of  booty  were  in  the  pos- 
session of  the  triumphant  followers  of  Yakoob-la- 
12* 


274  REBECCA    AND    EOWENA. 

Mansoor.  Curses  on  his  head  !  But  he  was  a  brave 
warrior,  and  the  Christians  before  him  seemed  to 
forget  that  they  were  the  descendants  of  the  brave 
Cid,  the  Kambitoor,  as  the  Moorish  hounds  (in  their 
jargon)  denominated  the  famous  Campeador. 

A  general  move  for  the  rescue  of  the  faithful  in 
Spain — a  crusade  against  the  Infidels  triumphing 
there,  was  preached  throughout  Europe  by  all  the 
most  eloquent  clergy  :  and  thousands  and  thousands 
of  valorous  knights  and  nobles,  accompanied  by  well- 
meaning  varlets  and  vassals  of  the  lower  sort,  trooped 
from  all  sides  to  the  rescue.  The  straits  of  Gibel-al- 
tariff,  at  which  spot  the  Moor,  passing  from  Barbary, 
first  planted  his  accursed  foot  on  the  Christian  soil, 
were  crowded  with  the  galleys  of  the  Templars  and 
the  Knights  of  St.  John,  who  flung  succours  into  the 
menaced  kingdoms  of  the  Peninsula  ;  the  inland  sea 
swarmed  with  their  ships  hasting  from  their  forts  and 
islands,  from  Rhodes  and  Byzantium,  from  Jaffa  and 
Askalon.  The  Pyrenean  peaks  beheld  the  pennons 
and  glittered  with  the  armour  of  the  knights  marching 
out  of  France  into  Spain  ;  and,  finally,  in  a  ship  that 
set  sail  direct  from  Bohemia,  where  Sir  Wilfrid  hap- 
pened to  be  quartered  at  the  time  when  the  news  of 
the  defeat  of  Alarcos  came  and  alarmed  all  good 
Christians,  Ivanhoe  landed  at  Barcelona,  and  proceed- 
ed to  slaughter  the  Moors  forthwith. 

He  brought  letters  of  introduction  from  his  friend 


UEBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  275 

Folko  of  Heydenbraten,  the  Grand  Master  of  the 
Knights  of  Saint  John,  to  the  venerable  Baldomero 
de  Garbanzos,  Grand  Master  of  the  renowned  order 
of  Saint  Jago.  The  chief  of  Saint  Jago's  knights  paid 
the  greatest  respect  to  a  warrior,  whose  fame  was  al- 
ready so  widely  known  in  Christendom;  and  Ivanhoe 
had  the  pleasure  of  being  appointed  to  all  the  posts  of 
danger  and  forlorn  hopes  that  could  be  devised  in  his 
honour.  He  would  be  called  up  twice  or  thrice  in  a  night 
to  fight  the  Moors  :  he  led  ambushes,  scaled  breaches  ; 
was  blown  up  by  mines ;  was  wounded  many  hundred 
times  (recovering,  thanks  to  the  elixir,  of  which  Wamba 
always  carried  a  supply) ;  he  was  the  terror  of  the  Sara- 
cens, and  the  admiration  and  wonder  of  the  Christians. 
To  describe  his  deeds  would,  I  say,  be  tedious ; 
one  day's  battle  was  like  that  of  another.  I  am  not 
writing  in  ten  volumes  like  Monsieur  Alexandre  Du- 
inas,  or  even  in  three  like  other  great  authors.  We 
have  no  room  for  the  recounting  of  Sir  Wilfrid's 
deeds  of  valour.  Whenever  he  took  a  Moorish  town 
it  was  remarked,  that  he  went  anxiously  into  the 
Jewish  quarter,  and  inquired  amongst  the  Hebrews, 
who  were  in  great  numbers  in  Spain,  for  Rebecca, 
the  daughter  of  Isaac.  Many  Jews,  according  to 
his  wont,  he  ransomed,  and  created  so  much  scandal 
by  this  proceeding,  and  by  the  manifest  favour  which 
he  showed  to  the  people  of  the  nation — that  the  Mas- 
ter of  Saint  Jago  remonstrated  with  him,  and  it  is 


276  REBECCA    AND    ROWEXA. 

probable  he  would  have  been  cast  into  the  Inquisition 
and  roasted ;  but  that  his  prodigious  valour  and  suc- 
cess against  the  Moors  counterbalanced  his  heretical 
partiality  for  the  children  of  Jacob. 

It  chanced  that  the  good  knight  was  present  at 
the  siege  of  Xixona  in  Andalusia,  entering  the  breach 
the  first,  according  to  his  wont,  and  slaying,  with  his 
own  hand,  the  Moorish  Lieutenant  of  the  town,  and 
several  hundred  more  of  its  unbelieving  defenders. 
He  had  very  nearly  done  for  the  Alfaqui,  or  gover- 
nor, a  veteran  warrior  with  a  crooked  scimetar  and  a 
beard  as  white  as  snow,  but  a  couple  of  hundred  of 
the  Alfaqui's  body-guard  flung  themselves  between 
Ivanhoe  and  their  chief,  and  the  old  fellow  escaped 
with  his  life,  leaving  a  handful  of  his  beard  in  the 
grasp  of  the  English  knight.  The  strictly  military 
business  being  done,  and  such  of  the  garrison  as  did 
not  escape  put,  as  by  right,  to  the  sword,  the  good 
knight,  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe,  took  no  further  part 
in  the  proceedings  of  the  conquerors  of  that  ill-fated 
place.  A  scene  of  horrible  massacre  and  frightful 
reprisals  ensued,  and  the  Christian  warriors,  hot  with 
victory  and  flushed  with  slaughter,  were,  it  is  to  be 
feared,  as  savage  in  their  hour  of  triumph  as  ever 
their  heathen  enemies  had  been. 

Among  the  most  violent  and  least  scrupulous  was 
the  ferocious  knight  of  Saint  Jago,  Don  Beltran  de 
Cuchilla  y  Trabuco  y  Espada  y  Espelon :  raging 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  277 

through  the  vanquished  city  like  a  demon,  he  slaugh- 
tered indiscriminately  all  those  infidels  of  both  sexes 
whose  wealth  did  not  tempt  him  to  a  ransom,  or  whose 
beauty  did  not  reserve  them  for  more  frightful  calam- 
ities than  death.  The  slaughter  over,  Don  Beltran 
took  up  his  quarters  in  the  Albaycen,  where  the  Al- 
faqui had  lived  who  had  so  narrowly  escaped  the 
sword  of  Ivanhoe  ;  but  the  wealth,  the  treasure,  the 
slaves,  and  the  family  of  the  fugitive  chieftain,  were 
left  in  possession  of  the  conqueror  of  Xizona. 
Among  the  treasures  Don  Beltran  recognised  with  a 
savage  joy  the  coat-armours  and  ornaments  of  many 
brave  and  unfortunate  companions-in-arms  who  had 
fallen  in  the  fatal  battle  of  Alarcos.  The  sight  of 
those  bloody  relics  added  fury  to  his  cruel  disposition, 
and  served  to  steel  a  heart  already  but  little  disposed 
to  sentiments  of  mercy. 

Three  days  after  the  sack  and  plunder  of  the 
place,  Don  Beltran  was  seated  in  the  hall-court  late- 
ly occupied  by  the  proud  Alfaqui,  lying  in  his  divan, 
dressed  in  his  rich  robes,  the  fountains  playing  in  the 
centre,  the  slaves  of  the  Moor  ministering  to  his  scar- 
red and  rugged  Christian  conqueror.  Some  fanned 
him  with  peacocks'  pinions,  some  danced  before  him. 
some  sang  Moors'  melodies  to  the  plaintive  notes  of  a 
guzla,  one — it  was  the  only  daughter  of  the  Moor's 
old  age,  the  young  Zutulbe,  a  rosebud  of  beauty — 
sat  weeping  in  a  corner  of  the  gilded  hall,  weeping 


278  IITPKCCA    AND    ROWENA. 


for  her  slain  brethren,  the  pride  of  Moslem  chivalry, 
whose  heads  were  blackening  in  the  blazing  sunshine 
on  the  portals  without,  and  for  her  father,  whose  home 
had  been  thus  made  desolate. 

He  and  his  guest,  the  English  knight  Sir  Wilfrid, 
were  playing  at  chess,  a  favourite  amusement  with 
the  chivalry  of  the  period,  when  a  messenger  was  an- 
nounced from  Valencia,  to  treat,  if  possible,  for  the 
ransom  of  the  remaining  part  of  the  Alfaqui's  family. 
A  grim  smile  lighted  up  Don  Beltran's  features  as 
he  bade  the  black  slave  admit  the  messenger.  He 
entered.  By  his  costume  it  was  at  once  seen  that 
the  bearer  of  the  flag  of  truce  was  a  Jew — these  peo- 
ple were  employed  continually  then  as  ambassadors 
between  the  two  races  at  war  in  Spain. 

"I  come,"  said  the  old  Jew  (in  a  voice  which  made 
Sir  Wilfrid  start),  "  from  my  lord  the  Alfaqui  to  my 
noble  senor,  the  invincible  Don  Beltran  de  Cuchilla, 
to  treat  for- the  ransom  of  the  Moor's  only  daughter, 
the  child  of  his  old  age  and  the  pearl  of  his  affec- 
tion." 

"  A  pearl  is  a  valuable  jewel,  Hebrew.  What 
does  the  Moorish  dog  bid  for  her  ?  "  asked  Don  Bel- 
tran, still  smiling  grimly. 

"The  Alfaqui  offers  100,000  dinars,  twenty-four 
horses  with  their  caparisons,  twenty-four  suits  of 
plate-armour,  and  diamonds  and  rubies  to  the  amount 
of  1,000,000  dinars." 


HEKEUCA    AND    KOWENA.  279 

"  Ho,  slaves  !  "  roared  Don  Beltran,  "  show  the 
Jew  my  treasury  of  gold.  How  many_  hundred 
thousand  pieces  are  there  ? "  And  ten  enormous 
chests  were  produced  in  which  the  accountant  counted 
1.000  bags  of  1,000  dirhems  each,  and  displayed 
several  caskets  of  jewels  containing  such  a  treasure 
of  rubies,  smaragds,  diamonds,  and  jacinths,  as  made 
the  eyes  of  the  aged  ambassador  twinkle  with 
avarice. 

"  How  many  horses  are  there  in  my  stable  ? " 
continued  Don  Beltran;  and  Muley,  the  master  of 
the  horse,  numbered  three  hundred  fully  caparison- 
ed ;  and  there  was,  likewise,  armour  of  the  richest 
sort  for  as  many  cavaliers,  who  followed  the  banner 
of  this  doughty  captain. 

"  I  want  neither  money  nor  armour,"  said  the 
ferocious  knight;  "tell  this  to  the  Alfaqui,  Jew. 
And  I  will  keep  the  child,  his  daughter,  to  serve  the 
messes  for  my  dogs,  and  clean  the  platters  for  my 
scullions." 

"  Deprive  not  the  old  man  of  his  child,"  here  in- 
terposed the  knight  of  Ivanhoe ;  "  bethink  thee, 
brave  Don  Beltran,  she  is  but  an  infant  in  years." 

"  She  is  my  captive,  Sir  Knight,"  replied  the 
surly  Don  Beltran ;  "  I  will  do  with  my  own  as  be- 
comes me." 

"  Take    200,000    dirhems ! "    cried     the     Jew ; 


280  REBECCA    AND    KCHVENA. 

"  more  ! — anything  !  The  Alfaqui  will  give  his  life 
for  his  child  !  " 

"  Come  hither,  Zutulbe ! — come  hither,  thou 
Moorish  pearl ! "  yelled  the  ferocious  warrior ; 
';  come  closer,  my  pretty  black-eyed  houri  of  heathen- 
esse !  Hast  heard  the  name  of  Beltran  de  Espada  y 
Trabuco  ?  " 

"  There  were  three  brothers  of  that  name  at  Alar- 
cos,  and  my  brothers  slew  the  Christian  dogs  !  "  said 
the  proud  young  girl,  looking  boldly  at  Don  Beltran, 
who  foamed  with  rage. 

"  The  Moors  butchered  my  mother  and  her  little 
ones  at  midnight,  in  our  castle  of  Murcia,"  Beltran 
said. 

"  Thy  father  fled  like  a  craven,  as  thou  didst, 
Don  Beltran  !  "  cried  the  high-spirited  girl. 

';  By  Saint  Jago,  this  is  too  much  !  "  screamed 
the  infuriated  nobleman ;  and  the  next  moment 
there  was  a  shriek,  and  the  maiden  fell  to  the  ground 
with  Don  Beltran's  dagger  in  her  side. 

"  Death  is  better  than  dishonour !  "  cried  the 
child,  rolling  on  the  blood-stained  marble  pavement. 
"I — I  spit  upon  thee,  dog  of  a  Christian!"  and 
with  this,  and  with  a  savage  laugh,  she  fell  back  and 
died. 

"  Bear  back  this  news,  Jew,  to  the  Alfaqui," 
howled  the  Don.  spurning  the  beauteous  corpse  with 
his  foot.  "  I  would  not  have  ransomed  her  for 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  281 


all  the  gold  in  Barbary  !  "  And  shuddering,  the  old 
Jew  left  the  apartment,  which  Ivanhoc  quitted  like- 
wise. 

When  they  were  in  the  outer  court,  the  knight 
said  to  the  Jew,  "  ISAAC  OF  YORK,  dost  thou  not 
know  me  ?  "  and  threw  back  his  hood,  and  looked  at 
the  old  man. 

The  old  Jew  stared  wildly,  rushed  forward,  as  if 
to  seize  his  hand,  then  started  back,  trembling 
convulsively,  and  clutching  his  withered  hands  over 
his  face,  said,  with  a  burst  of  grief,  "  Sir  Wilfrid  of 
Ivanhoe  ! — no,  no  ! — I  do  not  know  thee  !  " 

"  Holy  mother  !  what  has  chanced  ?  "  said  Ivan- 
hoe,  in  his  turn  becoming  ghastly  pale ;  "  where  is 
thy  daughter — where  is  Rebecca?" 

"  Away  from  me ! "  said  the  old  Jew,  tottering, 
"  away  !  REBECCA  is — DEAD  !  " 

#**#*#** 

When  the  disinherited  knight  heard  that  fatal 
announcement,  he  fell  to  the  ground  senseless,  and 
was  for  some  days  as  one  perfectly  distraught  with 
grief.  He  took  no  nourishment  and  uttered  no  word. 
For  weeks  he  did  not  relapse,  out  of  his  moody  si- 
lence, and  when  he  came  partially  to  himself  again, 
it  was  to  bid  his  people  to  horse,  in  a  hollow  voice, 
and  to  make  a  foray  against  the  Moors.  Day  after 
day  he  issued  out  against  these  infidels,  and  did 
nought  but  slay  and  slay.  He  took  no  plunder  as 


282  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

other  knights  did,  but  left  that  to  his  followers ;  he 
uttered  no  war-cry,  as  was  the  manner  of  chivalry, 
and  he  gave  no  quarter,  insomuch  that  the  ';  silent 
knight "  became  the  dread  of  all  the  Paynims  of 
Granada  and  Andalusia,  and  more  fell  by  his  lance 
than  by  that  of  any  the  most  clamorous  captain  of 
the  troops  in  arms  against  them.  Thus  the  tide  of 
battle  turned,  and  the  Arab  historian  El  Makary  re- 
counts how,  at  the  great  battle  of  Al  Akab,  called 
by  the  Spaniards  Las  Navas,  the  Christians  retrieved 
their  defeat  at  Alarcos,  and  absolutely  killed  half  a 
million  of  Mahometans.  Fifty  thousand  of  these,  of 
course,  Don  AYilfrid  took  to  his  own  lance  ;  and  it 
was  remarked  that  the  melancholy  warrior  seemed 
somewhat  more  easy  in  spirits  after  that  famous  feat 
of  arms. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE    END    OF    THE    PERFORMANCE. 

IN -a  short  time  the  redoubtable  knight,  Wilfrid  of 
Ivanhoe,  had  killed  off  so  many  of  the  Moors,  that 
though  those  unbelieving  miscreants  poured  con- 
tinual reinforcements  into  Spain  from  Barbary,  they 
could  make  no  head  against  the  Christian  forces,  and 
in  fact  came  into  battle  quite  discouraged  at  the  no- 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  283 

tion  of  meeting  the  dreadful  silent  knight.  It  was 
commonly  believed  amongst  them,  that  the  famous 
Malek  Ric  Richard  of  England,  the  conqueror  of 
Saladin,  had  come  to  life  again,  and  was  battling  in 
the  Spanish  hosts — that  this  his  second  life  was  a 
charmed  one,  and  his  body  inaccessible  to  blow  of 
scinietar  or  thrust  of  spear — that  after  battle  he  ate 
hearts  and  drank  the  blood  of  many  young  Moors 
for  his  supper ;  a  thousand  wild  legends  were  told  of 
Ivanhoe,  .indeed,  so  that  the  Morisco  warriors  came 
half  vanquished  into  the  field,  and  fell  an  easy  prey 
to  the  Spaniards,  who  cut  away  among  them  with- 
out mercy.  And  although  none  of  the  Spanish  his- 
torians whom  I  have  consulted  make  mention  of  Sir 
Wilfrid  as  the  real  author  of  the  numerous  triumphs 
which  now  graced  the  arms  of  the  good  cause ;  this 
is  not  in  the  least  to  be  wondered  at  in  a  nation  that 
has  always  been  notorious  for  bragging,  and  for  the 
non-payment  of  their  debts  of  gratitude  as  of  their 
other  obligations,  and  that  writes  histories  of  the 
Peninsular  war  with  the  Emperor  Napoleon,  without 
making  the  slightest  mention  of  His  Grace  the  Duke 
of  Wellington,  or  of  the  part  taken  by  BRITISH 
VALOUR  in  that  transaction.  Well,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed on  the  other  hand  that  we  brag  enough  of  our 
fathers'  feats  in  those  campaigns,  but  this  is  not  the 
subject  at  present  under  consideration. 

To  be  brief.  Ivanhoe  made  such  short  work  with 


284  REBECCA    AND    ROWEN'A. 

the  unbelievers,  that  the  Monarch  of  Aragon,  King 
Don  Jay  me,  saw  himself  speedily  enabled  to  besiege 
the  city  of  Valencia,  the  last  stronghold  which  the 
Moors  had  in  his  dominions,  and  garrisoned  by  many 
thousands  of  those  infidels  under  the  command  of 
their  King  Aboo  Abdallah  Mahommed,  son  of  Yakoob 
Almansoor.  The  Arabian  historian  El  Makary,  gives 
a  full  account  of  the  military  precautions  taken  by 
Aboo  Abdallah  to  defend  his  city,  but  as  I  do  not 
wish  to  make  a  parade  of  my  learning,  or  to  write  a 
costume  novel,  I  shall  pretermit  any  description  of 
the  city  under  its  Moorish  governors. 

Besides  the  Turks  who  inhabited  it,  there  dwelt 
within  its  walls,  great  store  of  those  of  the  Hebrew 
nation,  who  were  always  protected  by  the  Moors,  du- 
ring their  unbelieving  reign  in  Spain  ;  and  who  were, 
as  we  very  well  know,  the  chief  physicians,  the  chief 
bankers,  the  chief  statesmen,  the  chief  artists  and 
musicians ;  the  chief  everything  under  the  Moorish 
kings.  Thus  it  is  not  surprising,  that  the  Hebrews, 
having  their  money,  their  liberty,  their  teeth,  their 
lives,  secure  under  the  Mahometan  domination,  should 
infinitely  prefer  it  to  the  Christian  sway,  beneath 
which  they  were  liable  to  be  deprived  of  every  one 
of  these  benefits. 

Among  these  Hebrews  of  Valencia,  lived  a  very 
ancient  Israelite, — no  other  than  Isaac  of  York,  be- 
fore mentioned,  who  came  into  Spain  with  his  daugh- 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  285 

ter,  soon  after  Ivanhoe's  marriage,  in  the  third  volume 
of  the  first  part  of  this  history.  Isaac  was  respect- 
ed by  his  people,  for  the  money  which  he  possessed, 
and  his  daughter  for  her  admirable  good  qualities, 
her  beauty,  her  charities,  and  her  remarkable  medical 
skill. 

The  young  Emir  Aboo  Abdallah,  was  so  struck 
by  her  charms,  that  though  she  was  considerably 
older  than  His  Highness,  he  offered  to  marry  her, 
and  install  her  as  number  1  of  his  wives, — and  Isaac 
of  York  would  not  have  objected  to  the  union,  (for 
such  mixed  marriages  were  not  uncommon  between 
the  Hebrews  and  Moors  those  days.) — but  Rebecca 
firmly,  but  respectfully,  declined  the  proposals  of  the 
Prince,  saying,  that  it  was  impossible  she  should 
unite  herself  with  a  man  of  a  creed  different  to  her 
own. 

Although  Isaac  was,  probably,  not  over  well 
pleased  at  losing  this  chance  of  "being  father-in-law 
to  a  Royal  Highness,  yet  as  he  passed  among  his  peo- 
ple for  a  very  strict  character,  and  there  were  in  his 
family  several  Rabbis  of  great  reputation  and  severi- 
ty of  conduct,  the  old  gentleman  was  silenced  by  this 
objection  of  Rebecca's,  and  the  young  lady  herself 
applauded  by  her  relatives  for  her  resolute  behaviour. 
She  took  their  congratulations  in  a  very  frigid  man- 
ner, and  said,  that  it  was  her  wisbTnot  to  marry  at 
all.  but  to  devote  herself  to  the  practice  of  medicine 


286  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

altogether,  and  to  helping  the  sick  and  needy  of  her 
people.  Indeed,  although  she  did  not  go  to  any  pub- 
lic meetings,  she  was  as  benevolent  a  creature  as  the 
world  ever  saw  :  the  poor  blessed  her,  wherever  they 
knew  her,  and  many  benefited  by  her  who  guessed 
not  whence  her  gentle  bounty  came.  * 

But  there  are  men  in  Jewry  who  admire  beauty, 
and  as  I  have  even  heard,  appreciate  money  too.  and 
Rebecca  had  such  a  quantity  of  both,  that  all  the 
most  desirable  bachelors  of  the  people  were  ready  to 
bid  for  her.  Ambassadors  came  from  all  quarters  to 
propose  for  her.  Her  own  uncle,  the  venerable  Ben 
Solomons,  with  a  beard  as  long  as  a  Chasmere  goat, 
and  a  reputation  for  learning  and  piety  which  still 
lives  in  his  nation,  quarrelled  with  his  son  Moses,  the 
red-haired  diamond  merchant  of  Trebizond,  and  his 
son  Simeon,  the  bald  bill-broker  of  Bagdad,  each 
putting  in  a  claim  for  their  cousin.  Ben  Minories 
came  from  London,  and  knelt  at  her  feet :  Ben  Joc- 
hanan  arrived  from  Paris,  and  thought  to  dazzle  her 
with  the  latest  waistcoats  from  the  Palais  Royal : 
and  Ben  Jonah  brought  her  a  present  of  Dutch  her- 
rings, and  besought  her  to  come  back,  and  be  Mrs.  Ben 
Jonah  at  the  Hague. 

Rebecca   temporised   as  best   she   might.       She 

*  Though  I  am  writing  but  a  Christmas  farce,  I  hope  the 
kind-hearted  reader  will  excuse  me  for  saying  that  I  am  think- 
ing of  the  beautiful  life  and  death  of  Adelaide  the  Queen. 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  287 

thought  her  uncle  was  too  old.  She  besought  dear 
Moses  and  dear  Simeon  not  to  quarrel  with  each  other, 
and  offend  their  father  by  pressing  their  suit.  Ben 
Minories,  from  London,  she  said  was  too  young,  and 
Jochanan  from  Paris,  she  pointed  out  to  Isaac  of 
York,  must  be  a  spendthrift,  or  he  would  not  wear 
those  absurd  waistcoats.  As  for  Ben  Jonah,  she  said 
she  could  not  bear  the  notion  of  tobacco  and  Dutch 
herrings — she  wished  to  stay  with  her  papa,  her  dear 
papa.  In  fine,  she  invented  a  thousand  excuses  for 
delay,  and  it  was  plain  that  marriage  was  odious  to 
her.  The  only  man  whom  she  received  with  anything 
like  favour,  was  young  Bevis  Marks,  of  London,  with 
whom  she  was  very  familiar.  .  But  Bevis  had  come 
to  her  with  a  certain  token  that  had  been  given  to 
him  by  an  English  knight  who  saved  him  from  a  fag- 
got to  which  the  ferocious  Hospitaller  Folko  of  Hey- 
denbraten  was  about  to  condemn  him.  It  was  but  a 
ring,  with  an  emerald  in  it,  that  Bevis  knew  to  be 
sham,  and  not  worth  a  groat.  Rebecca  knew  about 
the  value  of  jewels  too  ;  but,  ah  !  she  valued  this  one 
more  then  all  the  diamonds  in  Prester  John's  turban. 
She  kissed  it ;  she  cried  over  it ;  she  wore  it  in  her 
bosom  always  ;  and  when  she  knelt  down  at  night  and 
morning,  she  held  it  between  her  folded  hands  on  her 
neck.  .  .  .  Young  Bevis  Marks  went  away  finally 
no  better  off  than  the  others ;  the  rascal  sold  to  the 
king  of  France  a  handsome  ruby,  the  very  size  of  the 


'288  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

bit  of  glass  in  Rebecca's  ring ;  but  he  always  said,  he 
would  rather  have  had  her,  than  ten  thousand  pounds, 
and  very  likely  he  would,  for  it  was  known  she  would 
at  once  have  a  plumb  to  her  fortune. 

These  delays,  however,  could  not  continue  for  ever; 
and  at  a  great  family  meeting  held  at  Passover  time, 
Rebecca  was  solemnly  ordered  to  choose  a  husband 
out  of  the  gentlemen  there  present ;  her  aunts  point- 
ing out  the  great  kindness  which  had  been  shown  to 
her  by  her  father,  in  permitting  her  to  choose  for  her- 
self. One  aunt  was  of  the  Solomon  faction,  another 
aunt  took  Simeon's  side,  a  third  most  venerable  old 
lady,  the  head  of  the  family,  and  a  hundred  and  forty- 
four  years  of  age,  was  ready  to  pronounce  a  curse 
upon  her,  and  cast  her  out,  unless  she  married  before 
the  month  was  over.  All  the  jewelled  heads  of  all 
the  old  ladies  in  Council ;  all  the  beards  of  all  the 
family  wagged  against  her — it  must  have  been  an 
awful  sight  to  witness. 

At  last,  then,  Rebecca  was  forced  to  speak. 
"  Kinsmen ! "  she  said,  turning  pale,  "  When  the 
Prince  Abou  Abdil  asked  me  in  marriage,  I  told 
you  I  would  not  wed  but  with  one  of  my  own  faith." 

"  She  has  turned  Turk,"  screamed  out  the  ladies 
"  She  wants  to  be  a  Princess,  and  has  turned  Turk." 
roared  the  Rabbis. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Isaac,  in  rather  an  appeased 
tone.  "  let  us  hear  what  the  poor  girl  has  got  to  say. 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  289 

Do  you  want  to  marry  his  Royal  Highness.  Rebecca, 
say  the  word,  yes  or  no  ?  " 

Another  groan  burst  from  the  Rabbis — they  cried, 
shrieked,  chattered,  gesticulated,  furious  to  lose  such 
a  prize,  as  were  the  women,  that  she  should  reign 
over  them,  a  second  Esther. 

'•  Silence,"  cried  out  Isaac,  "  let  the  girl  speak — 
speak  boldly.  Rebecca,  dear,  there's  a  good  girl." 

Rebecca  was  as  pale  as  a  stone.  She  folded  her 
arms  on  her  breast,  and  felt  the  ring  there.  She 
looked  round  all  the  assembly,  and  then  at  Isaac. 
"  Father,"  she  said,  in  a  thrilling  low  steady  voice, 
"  I  am  not  of  your  religion — I  am  not  of  the  Prince 
13oabdil's  religion — I — I  am  of  his  religion." 

"  His,  whose  ?  in  the  name  of  Moses,  girl,"  cried 
Isaac. 

Rebecca  clasped  her  hands  on  her  beating  chest, 
and  looked  round  with  dauntless  eyes, — "  Of  his," 
she  said,  "  who  saved  my  life  and  your  honour,  of  my 
dear,  dear  champion's. — I  never  can  be  his,  but  I  will 
be  no  other's.  Give  my  money  to  my  kinsmen  ;  it  is 
that  they  long  for.  Take  the  dross,  Simeon  and 
Solomon,  Jonah  and  Jochanan,  and  divide  it  among 
you,  and  leave  me.  I  will  never  be  yours,  I  tell  you, 
never.  Do  you  think,  after  knowing  him  and  hearing 
him  speak. — after  watching  him  wounded  on  his  pil- 
low, and  glorious  in  battle  (her  eyes  melted  and 
kindled  again  as  she  spoke  these  words),  I  can  mate 
li 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 


with  such  as  you  ?  Go.  Leave  me  to  myself.  I  am 
none  of  yours.  I  love  him,  I  love  him.  Fate  divides 
us  —  long,  long  miles  separate  us  ;  and  I  know  we 
may  never  meet  again.  But  I  love  and  bless  him 
always.  Yes,  always.  My  prayers  are  his  ;  my 
faith  is  his.  Yes,  my  faith  is  your  faith,  Wilfrid, 
Wilfrid  !  I  have  no  kindred  more,  —  I  am  a  Chris- 
tian." .  .  . 

At  this  last  word  there  was  such  a  row  in  the 
assembly,  as  my  feeble  pen  would  in  vain  endeavour 
to  depict.  Old  Isaac  staggered  back  in  a  fit,  and 
nobody  took  the  least  notice  of  him.  Groans,  curses, 
yells  of  men,  shrieks  of  women,  filled  the  room  with 
such  a  furious  jabbering,  as  might  have  appalled  any 
heart  less  stout  than  Kebecca's  ;  but  that  brave 
woman  was  prepared  for  all,  expecting,  and  perhaps 
hoping,  that  death  would  be  her  instant  lot.  There 
was  but  one  creature  who  pitied  her,  and  that  was 
her  cousin  and  father's  clerk,  little  Ben  Davids,  who 
was  but  thirteen,  and  had  only  just  begun  to  carry  a 
bag.  and  whose  crying  and  boo-hooing,  as  she  finished 
speaking,  was  drowned  in  the  screams  and  maledic- 
tions of  the  elder  Israelites.  Ben  Davids  was  madly 
in  love  with  his  cousin  (as  boys  often  are  with  ladie.- 
of  twice  their  age),  and  he  had  presence  of  mind  sud- 
denly to  knock  over  the  large  brazen  lamp  on  the 
table,  which  illuminated  the  angry  conclave,  and 
whispering  to  Rebecca  to  go  up  to  her  own  room 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  291 

and  lock  herself  in,  or  they  would  kill  her  else,  he 
took  her  hand  and  led  her  out. 

From  that  day  she  disappeared  from  among  her 
people.  The  poor  and  the  wretched  missed  her,  and 
asked  for  her  in  vain.  Had  any  violence  been  done 
to  her,  the  poorer  Jews  would  have  risen  and  put  all 
Isaac's  family  to  death  ;  and  besides,  her  old  flame, 
Prince  Boabdil,  would  have  also  been  exceedingly 
wrathful.  She  was  not  killed  then,  but,  so  to  speak, 
buried  alive,  and  locked  up  in  Isaac's  back  kitchen ; 
an  apartment  into  which  scarcely  any  light  entered, 
and  where  she  was  fed  upon  scanty  portions  of  the 
most  mouldy  bread  and  water.  Little  Ben  Davids 
was  the  only  person  who  visited  her,  and  her  sole 
consolation  was  to  talk  to  him  about  Ivanhoe,  and 
how  good  and  how  gentle  he  was,  how  brave  and 
how  true  ;  and  how  he  slew  the  tremendous  knight 
of  the  Templars,  and  how  he  married  a  lady  whom 
Rebecca  scarcely  thought  worthy  of  him,  but  with 
whom  she  prayed  he  might  be  happy ;  and  of  what 
colour  his  eyes  were,  and  what  were  the  arms  on  his 
shield,  viz.,  a  tree  with  the  word  "  Desdichado  "  writ- 
ten undei-neath,  &c.,  &c.,  &c. ;  all  which  talk  would 
not  have  interested  little  Davids,  had  it  come  from 
any  body  else's  mouth,  but  to  which  he  never  tired 
of  listening  as  it  fell  from  her  sweet  lips. 

So,  in  fact,  when  old  Isaac  of  York  came  to  nego- 
tiate with  Don  Beltran  de  Cuchilla  for  the  ransom 


292  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

of  the  Alfaqui's  daughter  of  Xixona,  our  dearest  Re- 
becca was  no  more  dead  than  you  and  I ;  and  it  was 
in  his  rage  and  fury  against  'Ivanhoe  that  Isaac  told 
that  Cavalier  the  falsehood  which  caused  the  knight 
so  much  pain  and  such  a  prodigious  deal  of  bloods-hod 
to  the  Moors ;  and  who  knows,  trivial  as  it  may 
seem,  whether  it  was  not  that  very  circumstance 
which  caused  the  destruction  in  Spain  of  the  Moor- 
ish power  1 

Although  Isaac,  we  may  be  sure,  never  told  his 
daughter  that  Ivanhoe  had  cast  up  again,  yet  Master 
Ben  Davids  did,  who  heard  it  from  his  employer  ; 
and  he  saved  Rebecca's  life  by  communicating  the 
intelligence,  for  the  poor  thing  would  have  "infallibly 
perished  but  for  this  good  news.  She  had  now  been 
in  prison  four  years  three  months  and  twenty-four 
days,  during  which  time  she  had  partaken  of  nothing 
but  bread  and  water  (except  such  occasional  tit-bits 
as  Davids  could  bring  her,  and  these  were  few  in- 
deed, for  old  Isaac  was  always  a  curmudgeon,  and 
seldom  had  more  than  a  pair  of  eggs  for  his  own  and 
Davids'  dinner) ;  and  she  was  languishing  away  when 
the  news  came  suddenly  to  revive  her.  Then,  though 
in  the  darkness  you  could  not  see  her  cheeks,  they 
began  to  bloom  again  ;  then  her  heart  began  to  beat 
and  her  blood  to  flow,  and  she  kissed  the  ring  on  her 
neck  a  thousand  times  a  day  at  least ;  and  her  con- 
stant question  was.  "  Ben  Davids  !  Ben  Davids  ' 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  293 

when  is  He  coming  to  besiege  Valencia 't "  She 
knew  he  would  come,  and,  indeed,  the  Christians 
were  encamped  before  the  town  ere  a  month  was 

over. 

#  *  *  *  * 

And  now  my  dear  boys  and  girls  I  think  I  per- 
ceive behind  that  dark  scene  of  the  back-kitchen 
(which  is  just  a  simple  flat,  painted  stone-colour,  that 
shifts  in  a  minute),  bright  streaks  of  light  flashing 
out,  as  though  they  were  preparing  a  most  brilliant, 
gorgeous,  and  altogether  dazzling  illumination,  with 
effects  never  before  attempted  on  any  stage.  Yes, 
the  fairy  in  the  pretty  pink  tights  and  spangled  mus- 
lin, is  getting  into  the  brilliant  revolving  chariot  of 
the  realms  of  bliss. — Yes,  most  of  the  fiddlers  and 
trumpeters  have  gone  round  from  the  orchestra  to 
join  in  the  grand  triumphal  procession,  where  the 
whole  strength  of  the  company  is  already  assembled, 
arrayed  in  costumes  of  Moorish  and  Christian  chival- 
ry, to  celebrate  the  "  Terrible  Escalade,"  the  "  Res- 
cue of  Virtuous  Innocence  " — the  "  Grand  Entry  of 
the  Christians  into  Valencia" — "Appearance  of  the 
Fairy  Day-Star,"  and  "unexampled  displays  of  pyro- 
technic festivity."  Do  you  not,  I  say,  perceive  that 
we  are  come  to  the  end  of  our  history ;  and,  after 
a  quantity  of  rapid  and  terrific  fighting,  brilliant 
change  of  scenery,  and  songs,  appropriate  or  other- 
wise, are  bringing  our  hero  and  heroine  together  ? 


294  REBECCA    AND    ROWENA. 

Who  wants  a  long  scene  at  the  last  ?  Mammas  are 
putting  the  girls'  cloaks  and  boas  on — Papas  have 
gone  out  to  look  for  the  carriage,  and  left  the  box- 
door  swinging  open,  and  letting  in  the  cold  air — if 
there  were  any  stage-conversation,  you  could  not  hear 
it,  for  the  scuffling  of  the  people  who  are  leaving  the 
pit.  See,  the  orange-women  are  preparing  to  retire. 
To-morrow  their  play-bills  will  be  as  so  much  waste- 
paper — so  will  some  of  our  master-pieces,  woe  is  me 
— but  lo  !  here  we  come  to  the  Scene  at  last,  and 
Valencia  is  besieged  and  captured  by  the  Christians. 

Who  is  the  first  on  the  wall,  and  who  hurls  down 
the  green  standard  of  the  Prophet  ?  Who  chops  off 
the  head  of  the  Emir  Abou  Whatdyecallem  just  as 
the  latter  has  cut  over  the  cruel  Don  Beltran  de  Cu- 
chilla  y  &c.  1  Who,  attracted  to  the  Jewish  quarter 
by  the  shrieks  of  the  inhabitants  who  are  being  slain 
by  the  Moorish  soldiery,  and  by  a  little  boy  by  the 
name  of  Ben  Davids,  who  recognises  the  knight  by 
his  shield,  finds  Isaac  of  York  egorge  on  a  threshold, 
and  clasping  a  large  back-kitchen  key?  Who  but 
Ivanhoe — who  but  Wilfrid  ?  "  An  Ivanhoe  to  the 
rescue,"  he  bellows  out  :  he  has  heard  that  news 
from  little  Ben  Davids  that  makes  him  sing.  And 
who  is  it  that  comes  out  of  the  house — trembling — 
panting — with  her  arms  out — in  a  white  dress — with 
her  hair  down — who  is  it  but  dear  Rebecca  !  Look, 


REBECCA    AND    ROWENA.  295 

they  rush  together,  and  master  Wamba  is  waving  an 
immense  banner  over  them,  and  knocks  down  a  cir- 
cumambient Jew  with  a  ham,  which  he  happens  to 
have  in  his  pocket.  ...  As  for  Rebecca,  now  her 
head  is  laid  upon  Ivanhoe's  heart :  I  shall  not  ask  to 
hear  what  she  is  whispering ;  or  describe  further  that 
scene  of  meeting,  though  I  declare  I  am  quite  affect- 
ed when  I  think  of  it.  Indeed  I  have  thought  of  it 
any  time  these  five-and-twenty  years — ever  since,  as 
a  boy  at  school,  I  commenced  the  noble  study  of 
novels — ever  since  the  day  when,  lying  on  sunny 
slopes  of  half-holidays,  the  fair  chivalrous  figures  and 
beautiful  shapes  of  knights  and  ladies  were  visible  to 
me — ever  since  I  grew  to  love  Rebecca,  that  sweetest 
creature  of  the  poet's  fancy,  and  longed  to  see  her 
righted. 

That  she  and  Ivanhoe  were  married  follows  of 
course  ;  for  Rowena's  promise  extorted  from  him  was, 
that  he  would  never  wed  a  Jewess,  and  a  better 
Christian  than  Rebecca  now  was  never  said  her 
Catechism.  Married  I  am  sure  they  were,  and 
adopted  little  Cedric  ;  but  I  don't  think  they  had 
any  other  children,  or  were  subsequently  very  bois- 
terously happy.  Of  some  sort  of  happiness  melan- 
choly is  a  characteristic,  and  I  think  these  were  a 
solemn  pair,  and  died  rather  early. 

THE  END. 


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